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DEAD MAN’S ROCK 


A ROMANCE 


BOOKS BY “Q” 

[ARTHUR T. QUILLER-COUCH] 

Published by CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 


Fort Amity $1-50 

Two Sides of the Face 1.50 

The Adventures of Harry Revel .... 1.50 
The White Wolf and Other Fireside Tales 1.50 
The Laird’s Luck and Other Fireside Tales 1.50 
Old Fires and Profitable Ghosts . . . . 1.50 

Historical Tales from Shakespeare . . . 1.50 

The Ship of Stars 1.5G 

The Splendid Spur ; . . 1.25 

I Saw Three Ships and Other Winter Tales 1.25 

Dead Man’s Rock 1.25 

The Delectable Duchy . 1.25 

The Blue PavilTons 1.25 

Noughts and Crosses > . . 1.25 

Wandering Heath 1.25 

Adventures in Criticism 1.25 

The Astonishing History of Troy Town . . 1.25 

Ia. A Love Story. [ Ivory Series .] 16mo . „ .75 


Dead Man’s Rock 


A ROMANCE 


Q 


0 




CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 
NEW YORK 1906 







»• 


I 3 os $14 



» 


t 

< < 

* ' c 

<• c 

C C t 





















A 









TO 

THE MEMORY OF 

MY FATHER 


I DEDICATE THIS BOOK 











CONTENTS 


Boofe I.— THE QUEST OF THE GREAT RUBY. 

CHAPTER 

I. Tells op the Strange Will of my Grandfather, faqb 
Amos Trenoweth 1 

II. Tells how my Father went to Seek the Treasure ; 

AND HOW MY MOTHER HEARD A CRY IN THE NlGHT 9 

III. Tells x>f Two Strange Men that Watched the Sea 

UP<ls T PoLKIMBRA BEACH 22 

IY. Tells how a Song was Sung and a Knife Drawn 

upon Dead Man’s Kock 38 

Y. Tells how the Sailor Georgio Rhodojani gate 

Evidence at the “ Lugger Inn ” . . . 48 

YT. Tells how a Face Looked in at the Window of 

LaNTRIG ; AND IN WHAT MANNER MY FATHER 

came Home to us 65 

YTI. Tells how Uncle Loveday made a Discovery; 

AND WHAT THE TlN Box CONTAINED ... 82 

VHI. Contains the First Part of my Father’s Journal: 

SETTING FORTH HIS MEETING WITH Mr. ElIHU 

Sanderson, of Bombay ; and my Grandfather’s 


Manuscript - 98 

IX — Contains the Second Part of my Father’s Journal: 

setting forth his Adventures in the Island 
of Ceylon 116 


X. Contains the Third and Last Part of my Father’s 

Journal: setting forth the Mutiny on Board 
the Felle Fortune 


148 


vni 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

XI. — Tells of tub Writing upon the Golden Clasp ; 
and how I Took Down the Great Key • • 


iSooft II.— THE FINDING OF THE GREAT RUBY. 

I. — Tells how Thomas Loveday and I went in Search 
of Fortunb 

II. — Tells of the Luck of the Golden Clasp 

III. — Tells an Old Story in the Traditional Manner . 

IV. — Tells how I Saw the Shadow of the Rock; and 

how I Told and Heard News .... 

V. — Tells how the Curtain Rose upon “ Francesca : A 
Tragedy ” 

"VT. — Tells how the Black and Yellow Fan sent a 
Message ; and how I Saw a Face in thb Fog . 

VII. — Tells how Claire went to the Play; and how 
she Saw the Golden Clasp 

VIII. — Tells how the Curtain Fell upon “Francesca: a 
Tragedy ” 

IX. — Tells how Two Voices led mb to Board a Schooner ; 

and what Befell there 

X. — Tells in what Manner I Learnt the Secret of the 
Great Key 

XL— Tells how at last I Found my Revenge and the 
Great Ruby 


PAG* 

169 

177 

192 

212 

225 

241 

257 

272 

285 

299 

312 


331 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK 


§00h I. 

THE QUEST OF THE GREAT RUBY. 


CHAPTER I. 

TELLS OF THE STRANGE WILL OF MY GRANDFATHER, 
AMOS TRENOWETH. 

Whatever claims this story may have upon the notice 
of the world, they will rest on no niceties of style or 
aptness of illustration. It is a plain tale, plainly told : 
nor, as I conceive, does its native horror need any 
ingenious embellishment. There are many books that 
I, though a man of no great erudition, can remember, 
which gain much of interest from the pertinent and 
appropriate comments with which the writer has seen fit 
to illustrate any striking situation. From such books 
an observing man may often draw the exactest rules for 
the regulation of life and conduct, and their authors may 
therefore be esteemed public benefactors. Among these 
I, Jasper Trenoweth, can claim no place; yet I venture 
to think my history will not altogether lack interest — 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


and tliis for two reasons. It deals with the last chapter 
(I pray Heaven it be the last) in the adventures of a 
very remarkable gem — none other, in fact, than the 
Great Ruby of Ceylon ; and it lifts, at least in part, the 
veil which for some years has hidden a certain mystery 
of the sea. For the moral, it must be sought by the 
reader himself in the following pages. 

To make all clear, I must go back half a century, 
and begin with the strange and unaccountable Will made 
in the year of Grace 1837 by my grandfather, Amos 
Trenoweth, of Lantrig in the County of Cornwall. The 
old farm-house of Lantrig, heritage and home of the 
Trenoweths as far as tradition can reach, and Heaven 
knows how much longer, stands some few miles N.W. 
of the Lizard, facing the Atlantic gales from behind a 
scanty veil of tamarisks, on Pedn-gl&s, the northern point 
of a small sandy cove, much haunted of old by smugglers, 
but now left to the peaceful boats of the Polkimbra 
fishermen. In my grandfather's time however, if tales 
be true, Ready-Money Cove saw many a midnight cargo 
run, and many a prize of cognac and lace found its way 
to the cellars and store-room of Lantrig. Nay, there is 
a story (but for its truth I will not vouch) of a struggle 
between my grandfather’s lugger, the Pride of Heart , 
and a certain Revenue cutter, and of an unowned shot 
that found a Preventive Officer's heart. But the whole 
tale remains to this day full of mystery, nor would I 
mention it save that it may be held to throw some light 
on my grandfather's sudden disappearance no long time 


MY GRANDFATHER. 


3 


after. Whither he went, none clearly knew. Folks 
said, to fight the French; but when he returned sud- 
denly some twenty years later, he said little about sea- 
fights, or indeed on any other subject ; nor did many 
care to question him, for he came back a stern, taciturn 
man, apparently with no great wealth, but also without 
seeming to want for much, and at any rate indisposed to 
take the world into his confidence. His father had died 
meanwhile, so he quietly assumed the mastership at 
Lantrig, nursed his failing mother tenderly until her 
death, and then married one of the Triggs of Mullyon, 
of whom was born my father, Ezekiel Trenoweth. 

I have hinted, what I fear is but the truth, that my 
grandfather had led a hot and riotous youth, fearing 
neither God, man, nor devil. Before his return, how- 
ever, he had “got religion ” from some quarter, and 
was confirmed in it by the preaching of one Jonathan 
Wilkins, as I have heard, a Methodist from “up the 
country and a powerful mover of souls. As might 
have been expected in such a man as my grandfather, 
this religion was of a joyless and gloomy order, full 
of anticipations of hell-fire and conviction of the sin- 
fulness of ordinary folk. But it undoubtedly was 
sincere, for his wife Philippa believed in it, and the 
master and mistress of Lantrig were alike the glory 
and strong support of the meeting-house at Polkimbra 
until her death. After this event, her husband shut 
himself up with the tortures of his own stern conscience, 
and was seen by few. In this dismal self-communing 
b 2 


4 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


he died on the 27th of October, 1837, leaving behind 
him one mourner, his son Ezekiel, then a strong and 
comely youth of twenty-two. 

This brings me to my grandfather's Will, discovered 
amongst his papers after his death; and surely no 
stranger or more perplexing document was ever penned, 
especially as in this case any will was unnecessary, see- 
ing that only one son was left to claim the inheritance. 
Men guessed that those dark years of seclusion and 
self -repression had been spent in wrestling with memories 
of a sinful and perhaps a criminal past, and predicted 
that Amos Trenoweth could not die without confession. 
They were partly right, from knowledge of human 
nature; and partly wrong, from ignorance of my 
grandfather's character. 

The Will was dated "June 15th, 1837," and ran as 
follows : — 

“ 1 , Amos Trenoweth , of Lantrig, in the Parish of 
<( Polkimbr a and County of Cornwall, feeling , in this year 
“ of Grace Eighteen hundred and thirty-seven , that my 
“ Bodily Powers are failing and the Hour drawing near 
“ when I shall be called to account for my Many and 
“ Grievous Sins , do hereby make Provision for my Heath 
“ and also for my son Ezekiel , together with such Hescend - 
“ants as may hereafter be born to him . To this my 
“ son Ezekiel 1 give and bequeath the Farm and House 
“ of Lantrig , with all my Worldly Goods , and add my 
i( earnest hope that this may suffice to support both him 
" and his Descendants in Godliness and Contentment , 


MY GRANDFATHER'S WILL. 


6 


u knowing how greatly these excell the Wealth of this 
“ World and the Lusts of the Flesh. But , knowing also 
“ the mutability of earthly things , I do hereby command 
“and enjoin that , if at any time He or his Descendants 
“be in stress and tribulation of poverty , the Head of our 
“ Family of Trenoweth shall strictly and faithfully obey 
“these my Latest Directions. He shall take ship and go 
“ unto Bombay in India , to the house of Elihu Sanderson, 
“ Esquire, or his Heirs, and there, presenting in person 
“ this my last Will and Testament, together with the Holy 
“Bible now lying in the third drawer of my Writing Desk, 
“ shall duly and scrupulously execute such instructions 
“ as the said Elihu Sanderson or his Heirs shall lay upon 
“ him. 

“Also I command and enjoin, under pain of my 
“ Dying Curse, that the Iron Key now hanging from the 
“ Middle Beam in the Front Farlour be not touched or 
“moved, until he who undertakes this Task shall have 
“returned and have crossed the threshold of Lantrig, 
“ having duly performed all the said Instructions. And 
“furthermore that the said Task be not undertaken lightly 
“ or except in direst Need, under pain of Grievous and 
“ Sore Affliction. This I say, knowing well the Spiritual 
“and worldly Perils that shall beset such an one, and 
“ having myself been brought near to Destruction of Body 
“ and Soul, which latter may Christ in His Mercy avert. 

“ Thus , having eased my mind of great and pressing 
“ Anguish , I commend my soul to God , before Whose 
“ Judgment Bar 1 shall be presently summoned to stand, 


6 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ the greatest of sinners , yet not without hope of Ever - 
“ lasting Redemption, for Christ's sake . Amen . 

“Amos Trenowetii.” 

Such was the Will, written on stiff parchment in 
crabbed and unscholarly characters, without legal forms 
or witnesses; but all such were needless, as I have 
pointed out. And, indeed, my father was wise, as I 
think, to show it to nobody, but go his way quietly as 
before, managing the farm as he had managed it during 
the old man's last years. Only by degrees he broke 
from the seclusion which had been natural to him 
during his parents' lifetime, so far as to look about for 
a wife — shyly enough at first — until he caught the 
dark eyes of Margery Freethy one Sunday morning in 
Polkimbra Church, whither he had gone of late for 
freedom, to the no small tribulation of the meeting- 
house. Now, whether this tribulation arose from the 
backsliding of a promising member, or the loss of the 
owner of Lantrig (who was at the same time unmarried), 
I need not pause here to discuss. Nor is it necessary 
to tell how regularly Margery and Ezekiel found them- 
selves in church, nor how often they caught each 
other's eyes straying from the prayer-book. It is 
enough that at the year's end Margery answered 
Ezekiel's question, and shortly after came to Lantrig 
“ for good." 

The first years of their married life must have been 
very happy, as I gather from the hushed joy with 


MT FATHER AND MOTHER. 


7 


•milch my mother always spoke of them. I gather also 
that my first appearance in this world caused more 
delight than I have ever given since — God forgive me 
for it ! But shortly after I was four years old every- 
thing began to go wrong. First of all, two ships in 
which my father had many shares were lost at sea; 
then the cattle were seized with plague, and the stock 
gradually dwindled away to nothing. Finally, my 
father's bank broke — or, as we say in the West, “ went 
scat ! " — and we were left all but penniless, with the 
prospect of having to sell Lantrig, being without stock 
and lacking means to replenish it. It was at this 
time, I have since learnt from my mother, that Amos 
Trenoweth's Will was first thought about. She, poor 
soul ! had never heard of the parchment before, and her 
heart misgave her as she read of peril to soul and body 
sternly hinted at therein. Also, her best-beloved brother 
had gone down in a squall off the Cape of Good Hope, 
so that she always looked upon the sea as a cruel and 
treacherous foe, and shuddered to think of it as lying in 
wait for her Ezekiel's life. It came to pass, therefore, 
that for two years the young wife's tears and entreaties 
prevailed ; but at the end of this time, matters growing 
worse and worse, and also because it seemed hard that 
Lantrig should pass away from the Trenoweths while, 
for aught we knew, treasure was to be had for the look- 
ing, poverty and my father's wish prevailed, and it was 
determined, with the tearful assent of my mother, that 
he should start to seek this Elihu {Sanderson, of Bombay, 


8 


DEAD MAN'S EOCK. 


and, with good fortune, save the failing house of the 
Trenoweths. Only he waited until the worst of the 
winter was over, and then, having commended us both 
to the care of his aunt, Elizabeth Loveday, of Lizard 
Town, and provided us with the largest sum he could 
scrape together (and small indeed it was), he started 
for the port of Plymouth one woeful morning in 
February, and thence sailed away in the good ship 
Golden Wave to win his inheritance. 


CHAPTER II. 


TELLS HOW MY FATHER WENT TO SEEK THE TREASURE; 

AND HOW MY MOTHER HEARD A CRY IN THE NIGHT. 

So my father sailed away, carrying with him — sewn 
for safety in his jersey’s side — the Will and the small 
clasped Bible ; nor can I think of stranger equipment 
for the hunting of earthly treasure. And the great 
iron key hung untouched from the beam, while the 
spiders outvied one another in wreathing it with their 
webs, knowing it to he the only spot in Lantrig where 
they were safe from my mother’s broom. It is with 
these spiders that my recollections begin, for of my 
father, before he sailed away, remembrance is dim 
and scanty, being confined to the picture of a tall fair 
man, with huge shoulders and wonderful grey eyes, 
that changed in a moment from the stem look he must 
have inherited from Amos to an extraordinary depth of 
love and sympathy. Also I have some faint memories 
of a pig, named Eleazar (for no well-explained reason), 
which fell over the cliff one night and awoke the house- 
hold with its cries. But this I mention only because it 
happened, as I learn, before my father's going, and not 
for any connection with my story. We must have 


10 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


lived a very quiet life at Lantrig, even as lives go on 
our Western coast. I remember my mother now as she 
went softly about the house contriving and scheming 
to make the two ends of our small possessions meet. 
She was a woman who always walked softly, and, 
indeed, talked so, with a low musical voice such as I 
shall never hear again, nor can ever hope to. But I 
remember her best in church, as she knelt and prayed 
for her absent husband, and also in the meeting-house, 
which she sometimes attended, more to please Aunt 
Elizabeth than for any good it did her. For the re- 
ligion there was too sombre for her quiet sorrow ; and 
often I have seen a look of awful terror possess her 
eyes when the young minister gave out the hymn and 
the fervid congregation wailed forth — 

“ In midst of life we are in death, 

Oh ! stretch Thine arm to save, 

Amid the storm’s tumultuous breath 
And roaring of the wave,” 

which, among a fishing population, was considered a 
particularly appropriate hymn ; and, truly, to hear the 
unction with which the word “ tu-mult-u-ous ** was 
rendered, with all strength of lung and rolling of 
syllables, was moving enough. But my mother would 
grow all white and trembling, and clutch my hand 
sometimes, as though to save herself from shipwreck \ 
whilst I too often would be taken with the passion of 
the chant, and join lustily in the shouting, only half 


MY EDUCATION. 


11 


comprehending her mortal anguish. It was this, per- 
haps, and many another such scene, which drew upon 
me her gentle reproof for pointing one day to the 
text above the pulpit and repeating, " How dreadful 
is this place 1 " Eut that was after I had learned to 
spell. 

It had always been my father's wish that I should 
grow up “ a scholar," which, in those days, meant 
amongst us one who could read and write with no more 
than ordinary difficulty. So one of my mother's chief 
cares was tc teach me my letters, which I learnt from 
big A to “ Ampusand " in the old hornbook at Lan- 
trig. I have that hornbook still, 

“ covered with pellucid horn. 

To save from fingers wet the letters fair.” 

The horn, alas ! is no longer pellucid, but dim, as if 
with the tears of the many generations that have 
struggled through the alphabet and the first ten 
numerals and reached in due course the haven of the 
Lord's Prayer and Doxology. I had passed the 
DoxoTogy, and was already deep in the “ Pilgrim's 
Progress" and the “Holy War" (which latter book, 
with the rude taste of childhood, I greatly pre- 
ferred, so that I quickly knew the mottoes and stan- 
dards of its bewildering hosts by heart), when my 
father's first letter came home. In those days, before 
the great canal was cut, a voyage to the East Indies 
was no light matter, lying as it did around the 


12 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


treacherous Cape and through seas where a ship may 
lie becalmed for weeks. So it was little wonder that 
my father’s letter, written from Bombay, was some 
time on its way. Still, when the news came it was 
good. He had seen Mr. Elihu Sanderson, son of the 
Elihu mentioned in my grandfather’s Will, had presented 
his parchment and Testament, and received some notes 
(most of which he sent home), together with a sealed 
packet, directed in Amos Trenoweth’s handwriting : 
“To the Son of my House, who, having Counted 
all the Perils, is Resolute.” This packet, my father 
went on to say, contained much mysterious matter, 
which would keep until he and his dear wife met. He 
added that, for himself, he could divine no peril, nor 
any cause for his dear wife to trouble, seeing that he 
had but to go to the island of Ceylon, whence, having 
accomplished the commands contained in the packet, he 
purposed to take ship and return with all speed to 
England. This was the substance of the letter, wrapped 
around with many endearing words, and much tender 
solicitude for Margery and the little one, as that he 
hoped Jasper was tackling his letters like a real scholar, 
and comforting his mother’s heart, with more to this 
effect; which made us weep very sorrowfully when the 
letter was read, although we could not well have told 
why. As to the sealed packet, my father would have 
been doubtless more explicit had he been without a 
certain distrust of letters and letter-carriers, which, 
amid much faith in the miraculous powers of the Post 


WE HEAE TIDINGS. 


13 


Office, I have known to exist among us even in these 
later days. 

Than this blessed letter surely no written sheet was 
ever more read and re-read ; read to me every night 
before prayers were said, read to Aunt Elizabeth and 
Uncle Loveday, read (in extracts) to all the neighbours 
of Polkimbra, for none knew certainly why Ezekiel had 
gone to India except that, somewhat vaguely, it was to 
“ better hisself/' How many times my mother read 
it, and kissed it, and cried over it, God alone knows ; I 
only know that her step, which had been failing of late, 
grew firmer, and she went about the house with a light 
in her face like “ the face of an angel as the vicar 
said. It may have been : I have never since seen its 
like upon earth. 

After this came the great joy of sending an answer, 
which I wrote (with infinite pains as to the capital 
letters) at my mother's dictation. And then it was 
read over and corrected, and added to, and finally 
directed, as my father had instructed us, to “Mr. 
Ezekiel Trenoweth; care of John P. Eversleigh, Esq., 
of the East India Company's Service, Colombo, Ceylon.” 
I remember that my mother sealed it with the red 
cornelian Ezekiel had given her when he asked her to 
be his wife, and took it with her own hands to Penzance 
to post, having, for the occasion, harnessed old Pleasure 
in the cart for the first time since we had been alone. 

Then we had to wait again, and the little store of 
money grew small indeed. But Aunt Elizabeth was a 


14 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


wonderful contriver, and tender of heart besides, al- 
though in most things to be called a “ hard ” woman. 
She had married, during my grandfather’s long absence. 
Dr. Loveday, of Lizard Town — a mild little man with 
a prodigious vanity in brass buttons, and the most 
terrific religious beliefs, which did not in the least alter 
his natural sweetness of temper. My aunt and uncle 
(it was impossible to think of them except in this order) 
would often drive or walk over to Lantrig, seldom 
without some little present, which, together with my 
aunt’s cap-box, would emerge from the back seat, amid 
a duetto something after this fashion : — 

My Aunt . — “ So, my dear, we thought as we were driving in 
this direction we would see how you were getting 
on; and by great good fortune, or rather as I 
should say (Jasper, do not hang your head so; 
it looks so deceitful) by the will of Heaven (and 
Heaven’s will be done, you know, my dear, which 
must be a great comfort to you in your sore 
affliction), as Cyrus was driving into Cadgwith 
yesterday — were you not, Cyrus ? ” 

My Uncle . — “ To be sure, my dear.” 

My Aunt . — “ Well, as I was saying, as Cyrus was driving into 
Cadgwith yesterday to see Martha George’s hus- 
band, who was run over by the Helston coach, 
and she such a regular attendant at the Prayer- 
meeting, but in the midst of life (Jasper, don’t 
fidget) — well, whom should he see but Jane Ann 
Collins, with the finest pair of ducks, too, and 
costing a mere nothing. Cyrus will bear me 
out.” 

My Uncle . — f ‘ Nothing at all, my dear. Jasper, come here and 
talk to me. Do you know, Jasper, what happens 


THE SECOND LETTER. 


15 


to little boys that tell lies? You do F Some- 
thing terrible, eh? Soul’s perdition, my boy; 
soul’s ev-er-last-ing perdition. There, come and 
show me the pig.” 

What agonies of conscience it must have cost these 
two good souls thus to conspire together for benevolence, 
none ever knew. Nor was it less pathetic that the 
fraud was so hollow and transparent. I doubt not that 
the sin of it was washed out with self-reproving tears, 
and cannot think that they were shed in vain. 

So the seasons passed, and we waited, till in the late 
summer of 1849 (my father having been away nineteen 
months) there came another letter to say that he was 
about to start for home. He had found what he sought, 
so he said, but could not rightly understand its value, 
or, indeed, make head or tail of it by himself, and 
dared not ask strangers to help him. Perhaps, how- 
ever, when he came home, Jasper (who was such a 
scholar) would help him; and maybe the key would 
be some aid. For the rest, he had been stricken with a 
fever — a malady common enough in those parts — but 
was better, and would start in something over a week, 
in the Belle Fortune , a barque of some 650 tons register, 
homeward bound with a cargo of sugar, spices, and 
coffee, and having a crew of about eighteen hands, with, 
he thought, one or two passengers. The letter was full 
of strong hope and love, so that my mother, who 
trembled a little when she read about the fever, plucked 
up courage to smile again towards the close. The ship 


16 


DEAD MAN S ROCK. 


would be due about October, or perhaps Novem- 
ber. So once more we bad to resume our weary wait- 
ing, but this time with glad hearts, for we knew that 
before Christmas the days of anxiety and yearning 
would be over. 

The long summer drew to a glorious and golden 
September, and so faded away in a veil of grey sky ; 
and the time of watching was nearly done. Through 
September the skies had been without cloud, and the 
sea almost breathless, but with the coming of October 
came dirty weather and a strong sou’-westerly wind, 
that gathered day by day, until at last, upon the 
evening of October 11th, it broke into a gale. My 
mother for days had been growing more restless and 
anxious with the growing wind, and this evening had 
much ado to sit quietly and endure. I remembered that 
as the storm raged without and tore at the door-hinges, 
while the rain lashed and smote the tamarisk branches 
against the panes, I sat by her knee before the kitchen 
fire and read bits from my favourite “ Holy War,” 
which, in the pauses of the storm, she would explain 
to me. 

I was much put to it that night, I recollect, by 
the questionable morality at one point of Captain 
Credence, who in general was my favourite hero, 
dividing that honour with General Boanerges for the 
most part, but exciting more sympathy by reason of 
his wound — so grievously I misread the allegory, or 
rather saw no allegory at all. So my mother explained 


A WILD NIGHT. 


17 


it to me, though all the while, poor creature, her 
heart was racked with terror for her Mansoul, beaten, 
perhaps, at that moment from its body by the futy 
of that awful night. Then when the fable's meaning 
was explained, and my difficulty smoothed away, we 
fell to talking of father's home-coming, in vain 
endeavours to cheat ourselves of the fears that rose 
again with every angry bellow of the tempest, and 
agreed that his ship could not possibly be due yet 
(rejoicing at this for the first time), but must, we 
feigned, he lying in a dead calm off the West Coast 
of Africa ; until we almost laughed — God pardon us ! 
— at the picture of his anxiety to be home while such 
a storm was raging at the doors of Lantrig. And 
then I listened to wonderful stories of the East Indies 
and the marvels that men found there, and wondered 
whether father would bring home a parrot, and if it 
would be as like Aunt Loveday as the parrot down 
at the ct Lugger Inn," at Polkimbra, and so crept up- 
stairs to bed to dream of Captain Credence and parrots, 
and the "Lugger Inn" in the city of Mansoul, as 
though no fiends were shouting without and whirling 
sea and sky together in one devil's cauldron. 

How long I slept I know not; but I woke with 
the glare of a candle in my eyes, to see my mother, 
all in white, standing by the bed, and in her eyes an 
awful and soul-sickening horror. 

“ Jasper, Jasper ! wake up and listen !" 

I suppose I must have been still half asleep, for I 
o 


18 


DEAD MAN'S KOCK. 


lay looking at her with dazzled sight, not rightly know- 
ing whether this vision were real or part of my strange 
dreams. 

“ Jasper, for the love of God wake up ! ” 

At this, so full were her words of mortal fear, I 
shook off my drowsiness and sat up in bed, wide awake 
now and staring at the strange apparition. My mother 
was white as death, and trembling so that the candle 
in her hand shook to and fro, casting wild dancing 
shadows on the wall behind. 

“ Oh, Jasper, listen, listen !" 

I listened, but could hear nothing save the splash- 
ing of spray and rain upon my window, and above it 
the voice of the storm ; now moaning as a creature 
in pain, now rising and growing into an angry roar 
whereat the whole house from chimney to base 
shook and shuddered, and anon sinking slowly with 
loud sobbings and sighings as though the anguish of 
a million tortured souls were borne down the blast. 

“ Mother, I hear nothing but the storm." 

“ Nothing but the storm ! Oh, Jasper, are you 
sure you hear nothing but the storm ? ” 

u Nothing else, mother, though that is bad enough." 

She seemed relieved a little, but still trembled 
sadly, and caught her breath with every fresh roar. 
The tempest had gathered fury, and was now raging 
as though Judgment Day were come, and earth about 
to be blotted out. For some minutes we listened 
almost motionless, but heard nothing save the furious 


WE HEAR THE CRY. 


19 


elements; and, indeed, it was hard to believe that any 
sound on earth could be audible above such a din. At 
last I turned to my mother and said — 

"Mother dear, it is nothing but the storm. You 
were thinking of father, and that made you nervous. 
Go back to bed — it is so cold here — and try to go to 
sleep. What was it you thought you heard ? ” 

“ Dear Jasper, you are a good boy, and I suppose 
you are right, for you can hear nothing, and I can 
hear nothing now. But, oh, J asper ! it was so terrible, 
and I seemed to hear it so plainly; though I daresay 

it was only my Oh, God ! there it is again ! listen ! 

listen ! ” 

This time I heard — heard clearly and unmistak- 
ably, and, hearing, felt the blood in my veins turn to 
very ice. 

Shrill and distinct above the roar of the storm, 
which at the moment had somewhat lulled, there rose 
a prolonged wail, or rather shriek, as of many human 
voices rising slowly in one passionate appeal to the 
mercy of Heaven, and dying away in sobbing, shudder- 
ing despair as the wild blast broke out again with 
the mocking laughter of all the fiends in the pit — 
a cry without similitude on earth, yet surely and 
awfully human ; a cry that rings in my ears even now, 
and will continue to ring until I die. 

I sprang from bed, forced the window open and 
looked out. The wind flung a drenching shower of 
spray over my face and thin night-dress, then tore 
a £ 


20 


DEAD MAN'S BOCK. 


past up the hill. I looked and listened, but nothing 
could be seen or heard ; no blue light, nor indeed any 
light at all ; no cry, nor gun, nor signal of distress- 
nothing but the howling of the wind as it swept up 
from the sea, the thundering of the surf upon the beach 
below ; and all around, black darkness and impenetrable 
night. The blast caught the lattice from my hand as 
I closed the window, and banged it furiously. I turned 
to look at my mother. She had fallen forward on her 
knees, with her arms flung across the bed, speechless 
and motionless, in such sort that I speedily grew 
possessed with an awful fear lest she should be dead. 
As it was, I could do nothing but call her name and try 
to raise the dear head that hung so heavily down. 
Remember that I was at this time not eight years old, 
and had never before seen a fainting fit, so that if a 
sight so like to death bewildered me it was but natural. 
How long the fit lasted I cannot say, but at last, to 
my great joy, my mother raised her head and looked 
at me with a puzzled stare that gradually froze again to 
horror as recollection came back. 

“ Oh, Jasper, what could it be ? — what could it be ? ” 

Alas ! I knew not, and yet seemed to know it 
well. The cry still rang in my ears and clamoured at 
my heart ; while all the time a dull sense told me that 
it must have been a dream, and a dull desire bade me 
believe it so. 

“ Jasper, tell me — it cannot have been ” 

She stopped as our eyes met, and the terrible sus- 


WHAT? 


21 


picion grew and mastered ns, numbing, freezing, para- 
lysing the life within us. I tried to answer, but turned 
my head away. My mother sank once more upon her 
knees, weeping, praying, despairing, wailing, while the 
storm outside continued to moan and sob its passionate 
litany. 


CHAPTER III. 

TELLS OF TWO STRANGE MEN THAT WATCHED THE SEA 
UPON POLKIMBRA BEACH. 

Morning came at last, and with the first grey light the 
storm had spent its fury. By degrees my mother had 
grown calmer, and was now sleeping peacefully upon 
her bed, worn out with the passion of her terror. I 
had long ago dressed; but even had I wished to sleep 
again, curiosity to know the meaning of that awful cry 
would have been too strong for me. So, as soon as I 
saw that my mother was asleep, I took my boots in my 
hand and crept down-stairs. The kitchen looked so 
ghostly in the dim light, that I had almost resolved to 
give up my plan and go back, but reflected that it 
behoved me to play the man, if only to be able to cheer 
mother when I came back. So, albeit with my heart 
in my mouth, I drew back the bolt — that surely, for all 
my care, never creaked so loudly before or since — and 
stepped out into the cool air. The fresh breeze that smote 
my cheeks as I sat down outside to put on my boots 
brought me back to the every-day world — a world that 
seemed t-o make the events of the night unreal and 
baseless, so that I had, with boyish elasticity of temper, 
almost forgotten all fear as I began to descend the cliff 
towards Ready-Mcney Cove. 


THE ROCK. 


23 


Before I go any further, it will be necessary to 
describe in a few words that part of the coast which is 
the scene of my story. Lantrig, as I have said, looks 
down upon Ready-Money Cove from the summit of 
Pedn-glas, its northern arm. The cove itself is narrow, 
running in between two scarred and ragged walls of 
serpentine, and terminating in a little beach of whitest 
sand beneath a frowning and precipitous cliff. It is 
easy to see its value in the eyes of smugglers, for not 
only is the cove difficult of observation from the sea, by 
reason of its straitness and the protection of its pro- 
jecting arms, but the height and abruptness of its cliffs 
also give it seclusion from the land side. For Pedn-glas 
on the north rises sheer from the sea, sloping down- 
wards a little as it runs in to join the mainland, but 
only enough to admit of a rough and winding path at 
its inmost point, while to the south the cove is guarded 
by a strange mass of rock that demands a somewhat 
longer description. 

For some distance the cliff ran out as on the north 
side, but, suddenly breaking off as if cleft by some 
gigantic stroke, left a gloomy column of rock, attached 
to it only by an isthmus that stood some six or 
seven feet above high-water mark. This separate 
mass went by the name of Dead Man’s Rock — a name 
dark and dreadful enough, but in its derivation inno- 
cent, having been but Dodmen, or “the stony head- 
land,” until common speech perverted it. For this 
reason I suppose I ought not to call it Dead Man’s 


24 


DEAD MAN* S ROCK. 


Rock, the “ Rock ” being superfluous, but I give it the 
name by which it has always been known, being to a 
certain extent suspicious of those antiquarian gentlemen 
that sometimes, in their eagerness to restore a name, 
would deface a tradition. 

Let me return to the rock. Under the neck that 
joins it to the main cliff there runs a natural tunnel, 
which at low water leads to the long expanse of Pol- 
kimbra Beach, with the village itself lying snugly at its 
further end ; so that, standing at the entrance of this 
curious arch, one may see the little town, with the 
purple cliffs behind framed between walls of glistening 
serpentine. The rock is always washed by the sea, 
except at low water during the spring tides, though not 
reaching out so far as Pedn-glas. In colour it is mainly 
black as night, but is streaked with red stains that bear 
an awful likeness to blood; and, though it may be 
climbed — and I myself have done it more than once in 
search of eggs — it has no scrap of vegetation 6ave 
where, upon its summit, the gulls build their nests on a 
scanty patch of grass and wild asparagus. 

By the time I had crossed the cove, the western sky 
was brilliant with the reflected dawn. Above the cliffs 
behind, morning had edged the flying wrack of indigo 
clouds with a glittering line of gold, while the sea in 
front still heaved beneath the pale yellow light, as a 
child sobs at intervals after the first gust of passion is 
over-past. The tide was at the ebb, and the fresh 
breeze dropped as I got under the shadow of Dead Man's 


I MAKE A DISCOVERT. 


25 


Rock and looked through the archway on to Polkimbra 
Sands. 

Not a soul was to he seen. The long stretch of 
beach had scarcely yet caught the distinctness of day, 
hut was already beginning to glisten with the gathering 
light, and, as far as I could see, was desolate. I passed 
through and clambered out towards the south side of 
the rock to watch the sea, if perchance some bit of 
floating wreckage might explain the mystery of last 
night. I could see nothing. 

Stay ! What was that on the ledge below me, 
lying on the brink just above the receding wave ? A 
sailor's cap ! Somehow, the sight made me sick with 
horror. It must have been a full minute before I 
dared to open my eyes and look again. Yes, it was 
there ! The cry of last night rang again in my ears 
with all its supreme agony as I stood in the presence 
of this silent witness of the dead — this rag of clothing 
that told so terrible a history. 

Child as I was, the silent terror of it made me 
faint and giddy. I shut my eyes again, and clung, 
all trembling, to the ledge. Not for untold bribes 
could I have gone down and touched that terrible 
thing, but, as soon as the first spasm of fear was over, 
I clambered desperately back and on to the sands 
again, as though all the souls of the drowned were 
pursuing me. 

Once safe upon the beach, I recovered my scattered 
wits a little. I felt that I could not repass that dreadful 


DEAD MAN S ROCK. 


26 

rock, so determined to go across the sands to Pol- 
kimbra, and homewards around the cliffs. Still gazing 
at the sea as one fascinated, I made along the length of 
the beach. The storm had thrown up vast quantities of 
weed, that lined the water's edge in straggling lines 
and heaps, and every heap in turn chained and riveted 
my shuddering eyes, that half expected to see in each 
some new or nameless horror. 

I was half across the beach, when suddenly I looked 
up towards Polkimbra, and saw a man advancing to- 
wards me along the edge of the tide. 

He was about two hundred yards from me when I 
first looked. Heartily glad to see any human being 
after my great terror, I ran towards him eagerly, think- 
ing to recognise one of my friends among the Pol- 
kimbra fishermen. As I drew nearer, however, without 
attracting his attention — for the soft sand muffled all 
sound of footsteps — two things struck me. The first 
was that I had never seen a fisherman dressed as this 
man was ; the second, that he seemed to watch the sea 
with an absorbed and eager gaze, as if expecting to find 
or see something in the breakers. At last I was near 
enough to catch the outline of his face, and knew him 
to be a stranger. 

He wore no hat, and was dressed in a red shirt and 
trousers that ended in rags at the knee. His feet were 
bare, and his clothes clung dripping to his skin. In 
height he could not have been much above five feet six 
inches, but his shoulders were broad, and his whole 


A STRANGE MAN. 


27 


appearance, cold and exhausted as he seemed, gave 
evidence of great strength. His tangled hair hung 
over a somewhat weak face, but the most curious 
feature about the man was the air of nervous expecta- 
tion that marked, not only his face, hut every move- 
ment of his body. Altogether, under most circum- 
stances, I should have shunned him, but fear had made 
me desperate. At the distance of about twenty yards I 
stopped and called to him. 

I had advanced somewhat obliquely from behind, so 
that at the sound of my voice he turned sharply round 
and faced me, but with a terrified start that was hard to 
account for. On seeing only a child, however, the 
hesitation faded out of his eyes, and he advanced 
towards me. As he approached, I could see that he 
was shivering with cold and hunger. 

“ Boy,” he said, in an eager and expectant voice, 
“ what are you doing out on the beach so early ? ” 

“ Oh, sir ! ” I answered, “ there was such a 
dreadful storm last night, and we — that is, mother 
and I — heard a cry, we thought ; and oh I I have 
seen ” 

“ What have you seen ? ” — and he caught me by 
the arm with a nervous grip. 

“ Only a cap, sir,” I said, shrinking — “ only a cap ; 
but I climbed up on Dead Man's Rock just now — the 
rock at the end of the beach — and I saw a cap lying 

there, and it seemed ” 

“ Come along and show it to me ! ” and he began 


28 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


to run over tlie sands towards the rock, dragging me 
helpless after him. 

Suddenly he stopped. 

“ You saw nothing else ? w he asked, facing round 
and looking into my eyes. 

“No, sir." 

“ Nor anybody ? " 

“ Nobody, sir." 

“You are sure you saw nobody but me? You 
didn't happen to see a tall man with black hair, and 
rings in his ears ? " 

“ Oh, no, sir." 

“ You'll swear you saw no such man? Swear it 
now ; say, c So help me, God, I haven't seen anybody 
on the beach but you.' " 

I swore it. 

“ Say, ‘ Strike me blind if I have ! 9 99 

I repeated the words after him, and, with a hurried 
look around, he set off running again towards the 
rock. I had much ado to keep from tumbling, and even 
from crying aloud with pain, so tight was his grip. 
Fast as we went, the man's teeth chattered and his 
limbs shook; his wet clothes flapped and fluttered in 
the cold morning breeze; his face was drawn and 
pinched with exhaustion, but he never slackened his 
pace until we reached Dead Man’s Rock. Here he 
stopped and looked around again. 

“Is there any place to hide in hereabouts?" he 
suddenly asked. 


ON THE LEDGE. 


29 


The oddness of the question took me aback ; and, 
indeed, the whole conduct of the man was so stiange 
that I was heartily frightened, and longed greatly to 
run away. There was no help for it, however, so I 
made shift to answer — 

“ There is a nice cave in Ready-Money Cove, which 
is the next cove to this, sir. The smugglers used to 

use it because it was hidden so, hut " 

I suppose my eyes told him that I was wondering 
why he should want to hide, for he broke in again — 

“ Well, show me this cap. Out on the face of this 
rock, you say — what's the name ? Dead Man's Rock, 
eh ? Well, it's an ugly name enough, and an ugly 
rock enough ! " he added, with a shiver. 

I climbed up the rock, and he after me, until we 
gained the ledge where I had stood before. I looked 
down. The cap was still lying there, and the tide had 
ebbed still further. 

My companion looked for a moment, then, with a 
short cry, scrambled quickly down and picked it up. 
To me it had looked like any ordinary sailor’s cap, but 
he examined it, fingered it, and pulled it about, mutter- 
ing all the time, so that I imagined it must be his own, 
though at a loss to know why he made so much of 
recovering it. At last he climbed up again, holding it 
in his hands, and still muttering to himself — 

“ His cap, sure enough; nothing in it, though. 
Rut he was much too clever a devil. However, he's 
gone right enough ; I knew he must, and this proves it. 


80 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


curse him ! Well, I'll wear it. He’s not left behind 
as much as he thought, but mad enough he’d be to 
think I was his heir. I’ll wear it for old acquaint* 
ance’ sake. Sit down, boy,” he said aloud to me; 
“ we’re safe here, and can’t be seen. I want to talk 
with you.” 

The rocky ledge on which we stood was about seven 
feet long and three or four in breadth. On one side of 
it ran down the path by which we had ascended ; the 
other end broke off with a sheer descent into the sea of 
some forty feet in the present state of the tide. High 
above us rose an unscaleable cliff; at our feet lay a 
short descent to the ledge on which the cap had rested, 
and after that another precipice. It was not a pleasant 
position in which to be left alone with this strange com- 
panion, but I was helpless, and perhaps the trace of 
weakness and a something not altogether evil in his face, 
gave me some courage. Little enough it was, however, 
and in mere desperation I sat down on the side by the 
path. My companion flung himself down on the other 
side, with his legs dangling over the ledge, and so 
sat for a minute or two watching the sea. 

The early sun was now up, and its oblique rays set 
the waves dancing with a myriad points of fire. Above 
us the rock cast its shadow into the green depths below, 
making them seem still greener and deeper. To my 
left I could see the shining sands of Polkimbra, still 
desolate, and, beyond, the purple line of cliffs towards 
Kynance ; on my right the rock hid everything from 


I TELL MY NAME. 


31 


view, except the open sea and the gulls returning after 
the tempest to inspect and pry into the fresh masses of 
weed and wreckage. I looked timidly at my com- 
panion. He was still gazing out towards the sea, 
apparently deep in thought. The cap was on his head, 
and his legs still dangled, while he muttered to himself 
as if unconscious of my presence. Presently, however, 
he turned towards me. 

“ Got anything to eat ? 99 

I had forgotten it in my terror, hut I had, as I 
crossed the kitchen, picked up a hunch of bread to serve 
me for breakfast. This, with a half-apologetic air, as 
if to deprecate its smallness, I produced from my pocket 
and handed to him. He snatched it without a word, 
and ate it ravenously, keeping his eye fixed upon me in 
the most embarrassing way. 

“ Got any more ? ” 

I was obliged to confess I had not, though sorely 
afraid of displeasing him. He turned still further 
towards me, and stared without a word, then suddenly 
spoke again. 

“ What is your name ? 99 

, Truly this man had the strangest manner of 
questioning. However, I answered him duly — 

“ Jasper Trenoweth.” 

“ God in heaven ! What ? 99 

He had started forward, and was staring at me 
with a wild surprise. Unable to comprehend why my 
name should have this effect on him, but hopeless of 


82 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


understanding this extraordinary man’s behaviour, I re- 
peated the two words. 

His face had turned to an ashy white, but he 
slowly took his eyes off me and turned them upon the 
sea, almost as though afraid to meet mine. There was 
a pause. 

“ Father by any chance answering te the name of 
Ezekiel — Ezekiel Trenoweth ? ” 

Even in my fright I can remember being struck 
with this strange way of speaking, as though my father 
were a dog ; but a new fear had gained possession of 
me. Dreading to hear the answer, yet wildly anxious, 
I cried — 

“ Oh, yes. Do you know him ? He was coming 
home from Ceylon, and mother was so anxious; and 
then, what with the storm last night and the cry that 
we heard, we were so frightened ! Oh I do yen know 
— do you think ” 

My words died away in terrified entreaty ; but he 
seemed not to hear me. Still gazing out on tbs sea, 
he said — 

“ Sailed in the Belle Fortune , barque of €00 fans, 
or thereabouts, bound for Port of Bristol? Oh, ay, 
I knew him — knew him well. And might this here 
place be Lantrig ? ” 

“ Our house is on the cliff above the next cove/' I 
replied. “ But, oh ! please tell me if anything has 
happened to him ! ” 

“And why should anything have happened to 


THE STRANGE MAN IS LOGICAL. 


33 


Ezekiel Trenoweth? That's what I want to know. 
Why should anything have happened to him ? " 

He was still watching the waves as they danced 
and twinkled in the sun. He never looked towards me, 
hut plucked with nervous fingers at his torn trousers. 
The gulls hovered around us with melancholy cries, as 
they wheeled in graceful circles and swooped down to 
their prey in the depths at our feet. Presently he spoke 
again in a meditative, far-away voice — 

“ Ezekiel Trenoweth, fair, broad, and six foot two 
in his socks ; why should anything have happened to 
him?" 

“But you seem to know him, and know the ship 
he sailed in. Tell me — please tell me what has hap- 
pened. Did you sail in the same ship ? And, if so, 
what has become of it ? " 

“ I sailed," said my companion, still examining the 
horizon, “from Ceylon on the 12th of July, in the ship 
Mary Jane , bound for Liverpool. Consequently, if 
Ezekiel Trenoweth sailed in the Belle Fortune we 
couldn't very well have been in the same ship, and 
that's logic," said he, turning to me for the first time 
with a watery and uncertain smile, but quickly with- 
drawing his eyes to their old occupation. 

But he had lifted a great load from my heart, so 
that for very joy at knowing my father was not among 
the crew of the Mary Jane I could not speak for a time, 
but sat watching his face, and thinking how I should 
question him next. 

D 


84 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ Sailed in the Mary Jane } bound for Liverpool/* 
he repeated, his face twitching slightly, and his hands 
still plucking at his trousers, “ sailed along with — 
never mind who. And this hoy's Ezekiel Trenoweth's 
son, and I knew him ; knew him well." His voice was 
husky, and he seemed to have something in his throat, 
but he went on : “ Well, it's a strange world. To 

think of him being dead!" looking at the cap — which 
he had taken off his head. 

“ What ! Father dead ? " 

“ No, my lad, t'other chap : him as this cap be- 
longed to. Ah, he was a devil, he was. Can't fancy 
him dead, somehow ; seemed as though the water 
wasn't made as could have drowned him; always said 
he was born for the gallows, and joked about it. But 
lie's gone this time, and I've got his cap. 'Tis a 
hard thought that I should outlive him; but, curse 
him, I've done it, and here's his cap for proof — why, 
what the devil is the lad staring at ? " 

During his muttered soliloquy I had turned for a 
moment to look across Polkimbra Beach, when suddenly 
my eyes were arrested and my heart again set violently 
beating by a sight that almost made me doubt whether 
the events of the morning were not still part of a wild 
and disordered dream. For there, at about fifty yards' 
distance, and advancing along the breakers' edge, was 
another man, dressed like my companion, and also 
watching the sea. 

“ What's the matter, boy ? Speak, can't you ? " 


ANOTHER. 


35 


“ It's a man." 

“ A man ! Where ? " 

He made a motion forwards to look over the edge, 
hut cheeked himself, and crouched down close against 
the rock. 

“ Lie down ! " he murmured in a hoarse whisper. 
u Lie down low and look over." 

My arm was clutched as though by a vice. I sank 
down flat, and peered over the edge. 

“ It's a man," I said, “ not fifty yards off, and 
coming this way. He has on a red shirt, and is watch- 
ing the sea just as you did. I don't think that he 
saw us." 

“ For the Lord’s sake don’t move. Look ; is he tall 
and dark ? " 

His terrified excitement was dreadful. I thought 
I should have had to shriek with pain, so tightly he 
clutched me, but found voice to answer — 

“ Yes, he seems tall, and dark too, though I can’t 
well see at " 

“ Idas he got earrings ? " 

“1 can't see ; but he walks with a stoop, and seems 
to have a sword or something slung round his waist." 

“God defend us! that's he! Curse him, curse 
him ! Lie down — lie down, I say ! It's death if he 
catches sight of us." 

We cowered against the rock. My companion's 
face was livid, and his lips worked as though fingers 
were plucking at them, but made no sound. I never 
D 2 


36 


DEAD MAN'S EOCK. 


saw such abject, hopeless terror. We waited thus for a 
full minute, and then I peered over the ledge again. 

He was almost directly beneath us now, and was 
still watching the sea. At his side hung a short sheath, 
empty. I could not well see his face, but the rings in 
his ears glistened in the sunlight. 

I drew back cautiously, for my companion was 
plucking at my jacket. 

“ Listen, " he said — and his hoarse voice was sunk 
so low that I could scarcely catch his words — Listen. 
If he catches us it’s death — death to me, but perhaps 
he may let you off, though he’s a cold-blooded, mur- 
derous devil. However, there's no saying but you might 
get off. Any way, it'll be safest for you to have this. 
Here, take it quick, and stow it away in your jacket, so 
as he can't see it. For the love of God, look sharp I " 

He took something out of a pocket inside his shirt, 
and forced it into my hands. What it was I could not 
see, so quickly he made me hide it in my jacket. But I 
caught a glimpse of something that looked like brass, 
and the packet was hard and heavy. 

“ It's death, I say ; but you may be lucky. If he 
does for me, swear you'll never give it up to him. 
Take your Bible oath you'll never do that. And look 
here : if I'm lucky enough to get off, swear you'll give 
it back. Swear it. Say, ‘ Strike me blind ! ' " 

He clutched me again. Shaking and trembling, I 
£ave the promise. 

“ And look, here’s a letter ; put it away and read it 


DEVIL AND DEEP SEA. 


87 


after. If he does for me — curse him ! — you keep what 
Fve given you. Yes, keep it; it's my last Will and 
Testament, upon my soul. But you ought to go half 
shares with little Jenny; you ought, you know. You’ll 
find out where she lives in that there letter. But you'll 
never give it up to him. Swear it. Swear it again." 

Again I promised. 

“ Mind you, if you do. I'll haunt you. I'll curse 
you dying, and that’s an awful thing to happen to a 
man. Look over again. He mayn't be coming — 
perhaps he'll go through to the next beach, and then 
we'll run for it." 

Again I peered over, but drew back as if shot ; for 
just below me was a black head with glittering ear- 
rings, and its owner was steadily coming up the path 
towards us. 


CHAPTER IV. 

TELLS HOW A SONG WAS SUNG AND A KNIFE DRAWN 
UPON DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 

There was no escape. I have said that the ascent of 
Dead Man's Rock was possible, but that was upon the 
northern side, from which we were now utterly cut off. 
Hemmed in as we were between the sheer cliff and the 
precipice, we could only sit still and await the man's 
coming. Utter fear had apparently robbed my com- 
panion of all his faculties, for he sat, a stony image of 
despair, looking with staring, vacant eyes at the spot 
where his enemy would appear ; while as for me, 
dreading I knew not what, I clung to the rock and 
listened breathlessly to the sound of the footsteps as 
they came nearer and nearer. Presently, within about 
fifteen feet, as I guess, of our hiding-place, they 
suddenly ceased, and a full, rich voice broke out in 
song — 

“ Sing hey ! for the dead man’s eyes, my lads ; 

Sing ho ! for the dead man’s hand ; 

For his glittering eyes are the salt sea’s prize, 

And his fingers clutch the sand, my lads — 

Sing ho ! how they grip the land ! 

“ Sing hey ! for the dead man’s lips, my lads ; 

Sing ho ! for the dead man’s soul. 

At his red, red lips the morrymaid sips 

For the kiss that his sweetheart stole, my lads — 

Sing ho ! for the bell shall toll ! ” 


A MEETING. 


39 


The words were full and clear upon the morning 1 air — so 
clear that their weird horror, together with the strange- 
ness of the tune (which had a curious catch in the last 
line hut one) and, above all, the sweetness of the voice, 
held me spellbound. I glanced again at my companion. 
He had not changed his position, but still sat motion- 
less, save that his dry lips were again working and 
twitching as though they tried to follow the words 
of the song. Presently the footsteps again began to 
advance, and again the voice broke out — 

u So it’s hey ! for the homeward bound, my lads, 

And ho ! for the drunken crew. 

For his messmates round lie dead and drowned, 

And the devil has got his due, my lads — 

Sing ho ! but he ” 

He saw us. He had turned the corner, and stood 
facing us ; and as he faced us, I understood my 
companion's horror. The new-comer wore a shirt 
of the same red colour as my comrade, and trousers 
of the same stuff, but less cut and tom with the 
rocks. At his side hung an empty sheath, that 
must once have held a short knife, and the handle 
of another knife glittered above his waistband. But 
it was his face that fascinated all my gaze. Even 
had I no other cause to remember it, I could never 
forget the lines of that wicked mouth, or the glitter in 
those cruel eyes as their first sharp flash of surprise 
faded into a mocking and evil smile. 

For a minute or so he stood tranquilly watching our 


40 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


confusion, while the smile grew more and more devilishly 
bland. Not a word was spoken. What my comrade did 
I know not, but, for myself, I could not take my eyes 
from that fiendish face. 

At last he spoke : in a sweet and silvery voice, that 
in company with such eyes was an awful and fantastic 
lie, he spoke — 

“Well, this is pleasant i\deed. To run across an 
old comrade in flesh and blood when you thought him 
five fathom deep in the salt water is one of the 
pleasantest things in life, isn't it, lad ? To put on sack- 
cloth and ashes, to go about refusing to be comforted, 
to find no joy in living because an old shipmate is dead 
and drowned, and then suddenly to come upon him doing 
the very same for you — why, there's nothing that com- 
pares with it for real, hearty pleasure ; is there, John ? 
You seem a bit dazed, J ohn : it's too good to be true, 
you think? Well, it shows your good heart; shows 
what I call real feeling. But you always were a true 
friend, always the one to depend upon, eh, John ? Why 
don't you speak, J ohn, and say how glad you are to see 
your old friend back, alive and hearty ? " 

John's lips were trembling, and something seemed 
working in his throat, but no sound came. 

“ Ah, J ohn, you were always the one for feeling a 
thing, and now the joy is too much for you. Considerate, 
too, it was of you, and really kind — but that's you, John, 
all over — to wear an old shipmate's cap in affectionate 
memory. No, John, don't deprive yourself of it." 


AT BAY. 


41 


The wretched man felt with quivering fingers for the 
cap, took it off and laid it on the rock beside me, hut 
never spoke. 

u And who is the hoy, John? But, there, you were 
always one to make friends. Everybody loves you ; 
they can’t help themselves. Lucy loved you when she 
wouldn’t look at me, would she ? You were always so 
gentle and quiet, John, except perhaps when the drink 
was in you : and even then you didn’t mean any harm ; 
it was only your play, wasn’t it, John ? ” 

J ohn’s face was a shade whiter, and again something 
worked in his throat, hut still he uttered no word. 

“ Well, anyhow, John, it’s a real treat to see you — 
and looking so well, too. To think that we two, of all 
men, should have been on the jib-boom when she struck ! 
By the way, John, wasn’t there another with us? Now 
I come to think of it, there must have been another. 
What became of him ? Did he jump too, J ohn ? ” 

John found speech at last. “ No ; I don’t think he 
jumped.” The words came hoarsely and with difficulty. 
I looked at him ; cold and shivering as he was, the sweat 
was streaming down his face. 

“ No ? I wonder why.” 

No answer. 

“ You’re quite sure about it, J ohn ? Because, you 
know, it would be a thousand pities if he were thrown 
up on this desolate shore without seeing the faces of 
his old friends. So I hope you are quite sure, John ; 
think again.” 


42 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ He didn't jump." 

“No?" 

“ He fell." 

“ Poor fellow, poor fellow ! " The words came in the 
softest, sweetest tones of pity. “ I suppose there is no 
mistake about his melancholy end ? " 

“ I saw him fall. He just let go and fell ; it's 
Bible oath, Captain — it’s Bible oath. That's how it 
happened ; he just — let go — and fell. I saw it with my 

very eyes, and Captain, it was your knife." To this 

effect John, wi^h great difficulty and a nervous shifting 
stare that wandered from the Captain to me until it 
finally rested somewhere out at sea. 

The Captain gave a sharp keen glance, smiled softly, 
set his thin lips together as though whistling inaudibly, 
and turned to me. 

“ So you know John, my boy? He's a good fellow, 
is John ; just the sort of quiet, steady, Christian man to 
make a good companion for the young. No swearing, 
drinking, or vice about John Bail ton; and so truthful, 
too — the very soul of truth ! Couldn’t tell a lie for all 
the riches of the Indies. Ah, you are in luck to have 
such a friend ! It’s not often a good companion is such 
good company." 

I looked helplessly at the model of truth to see how 
he took this tribute ; but his eyes were still fixed in that 
eternal stare at the sea. 

“ And so, John, you saw him fall ? ‘ Who saw him 

die ? '■ — ‘ 1 / said the soul of truth, ‘ with my little eye' 


IT WAS YOUR KNIFE. 


43 


ft 


a 


• — and you have very sharp eyes, John. However, the 
poor fellow's gone ; e fell off/ you say ? I don't wonder 
you feel it so ; but, J ohn, with all our sympathy for the 
unfortunate dead, don't you think this is a good oppor- 
tunity for reading the Will ? We three, you know, may 
possibly never meet again, and I am sure our young 
friend — what name did you say? Jasper? — I am sure 
that our young friend Mr. Jasper would like the melan- 
choly satisfaction of hearing the Will." 

The man's eyes were devilish. John, as he faced 
about and caught their gaze, looked round like a wild 
beast at bay. 

“Will? What do you mean? I don't know — I 
haven't got no Will." 

“ None of your own, John, none of your own; but 
maybe you might know something of the la§t Will and 
Testament of — shall we say — another party? Think, 
John ; don't hurry, think a bit." 

“ Lord, strike me " 

“ Hush, John, hush ! Think of our young friend 
Mr. Jasper. Besides, you know, you were such a friend 
of the deceased — such a real friend — and knew all his 
secrets so thoroughly, John, that I am sure if you only 
consider quietly, you must remember ; you who watched 
his last moments, who saw him — ‘ fall,' did you say ? " 

No answer. 

“ Come, come, John ; I'm sorry to press you, but 
really our young friend and I must insist on an answer. 
For consider, John, if you refuse to join in our conver- 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


44 

sation, we shall have to go — reluctantly, of course, but 
still we shall have to go — and talk somewhere else. 
Just think how very awkward that would be. w 

“ You devil — you devil ! " 

John's voice was still hoarse and low, but it had a 
something in it now that sounded neither of hope nor 
fear. 

“ W ell, yes; devil if you like : but the devil must 
have his due, you know — • 

“ And the devil has got his due, my lads — 

Sing hey ! but he waits for you ! 

Yes, John, devil or no devil. I’m waiting for you. 
As to having my due, why, a lucky fellow like you 
shouldn't grudge it. Why, you’ve got Lucy, John: 
what more can you want ? We both wanted Lucy, hut 
you got her, and now she’s waiting at home for you. It 
would be awkward if I turned up with the news that 
you were languishing in gaol — I merely put a case, 
John — and little Jenny wouldn't have many sweet- 
hearts if it got about that her father — and I suppose 
you are her father " 

Before the words were well out of his mouth John 
had him by the throat. There was a short, fierce 
struggle, an oath, a gleam of light — and then, with a 
screech of mortal pain and a wild clutch at the air, my 
companion fell backwards over the cliff. 

***** 

It was all the work of a moment — a shriek, a splash, 


THE CAPTAIN COUNSELS SILENCE. 


45 


and then silence. How long the silence lasted I cannot 
tell. What happened next — whether I cried or fainted, 
looked or shut my eyes — is to me an absolute blank. 
Only I remember gradually waking up to the fact that 
the Captain was standing over me, wiping his knife on a 
piece of weed he had picked up on the rock, and regard- 
ing me with a steady stare. 

I now suppose that during those few moments my 
life hung in the balance : but at the time I was toe 
dazed and stunned to comprehend anything. The 
Captain slowly replaced his knife, hesitated, went to 
the ledge and peered over, and then finally came back 
to me. 

“ Are you the kind of boy that's talkative ? " His 
voice was as sweet as ever, but his eyes were scorching 
me like live coals. 

I suppose I must have signified my denial, for he 
went on — 

“ You heard what he called me ? He called me a 
devil ; a devil, mark you ; and that's what I am." 

In my state of mind I could believe anything ; so I 
easily believed this. 

“ Being a devil, naturally I can hear what little boys 
say, no matter where I am ; and when little boys are 
talkative I can reach them, no matter how they hide. I 
come on them in bed sometimes, and sometimes from 
behind when they are not looking ; there's no escaping 
me. You've heard of Apollyon perhaps? Well, that's 
who I am." 


46 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


I had heard of Apollyon in Bunyan ; and I had no 
doubt he was speaking the truth. 

“ I catch little boys when they are not looking, and 
carry them off, and then their fathers and mothers don't 
see any more of them. But they die very slowly, very 
slowly indeed — you will find out how if ever I catch you 
talking." 

But I did not at all want to know; I was quite 
satisfied,’ and apparently he was also ; for, after staring 
at me a little longer, he told me to get up and go down 
the rock in front of him. 

The agonies I suffered during that descent no pen 
can describe. Every moment I expected to feel my 
shoulder gripped from behind, or to feel the hands of 
some mysterious and infernal power around my neck. 
Close behind me followed my companion, humming — 

u And the devil has got his due, my lads— 

Sing hey ! but he waits for you ! ” 

And though I was far from singing hey ! at the pro- 
spect, I felt that he meant what he said. 

Arrived at the foot of the rock, we passed through 
the archway on to Ready-Money Cove. Turning down 
to the edge of the sea, the Captain scanned the water 
narrowly, but there was no trace of the hapless John. 
With a muttered curse, he began quickly to climb out 
along the north side of the rock, just above the sea- 
level, and looked again into the depths. Once more he 
was disappointed. Flinging off his clothes, he dived 


MY NAME AGAIN. 


47 


again and again, until from sheer exhaustion he crept 
out, bundled on his shirt and trousers, and climbed hack 
to me. 

" Curse him ! where can he be ? ” 

I now saw for the first time how terribly worn and 
famished the man was : he looked like a wolf, and his 
white teeth were bare in his rage. He had cut his foot 
on the rock. Still keeping his evil eye upon me, he 
knelt down by the water's edge and began slowly to 
bathe the wound. 

“ By the way, boy, what did you say your name 
was ? Jasper ? J asper what ? ” 

“ Trenoweth.” 
u Ten thousand devils ! " 

He was on his feet, and had gripped me by the 
shoulder with a furious clutch. I turned sick and 
cold with terror. The blue sky swam and circled 
around me : then came mist and black darkness, lit 
only by the gleam of two terrible eyes : a shout — and I 
knew no more* 


CHAPTER V. 


TELLS HOW THE SAILOR GEORGIO RHODOJANI GAVE 
EVIDENCE AT THE “ LUGGER INN.” 

I came gradually back to consciousness amid a buzz of 
voices. Uncle Loveday was bending over me, bis every 
button glistening with sympathy, and his face full of 
kindly anxiety. What had happened, or how I came to 
be lying thus upon the sand, I could not at first re- 
member, until my gaze, wandering over my uncle's 
shoulder, met the Captain's eyes regarding me with a 
keen and curious stare. 

He was standing in the midst of a small knot of 
fishermen, every now and then answering their questions 
with a gesture, a shrug of the shoulders, or shake of the 
head; but chiefly regarding my recovery and waiting, 
as I could see, for me to speak. 

“ Poor boy ! '' said Uncle Loveday. “ Poor boy 1 
I suppose the sight of this man frightened him.” 

I caught the Captain's eye, and nodded feebly. 

“ Ah, yes, yes. You see,” he explained, turning to 
the shipwrecked man, “ your sudden appearance upset 
him : and to tell you the honest truth, my friend, in 
your present condition — in your present condition, mind 


POLITENESS OP MY UNCLE. 


49 


yon — your appearance is perhaps somewhat — startling. 
Shall we say, startling ? ” 

In answer to my uncle’s apologetic hesitation the 
stranger merely spread out his palms and shrugged his 
shoulders. 

“Ah, yes. A foreigner evidently. Well, well, al- . 
though our coast is not precisely hospitable, I believe 
its inhabitants are at any rate free from that reproach. 
Jasper, my boy, can you walk now? If so, Joseph 
here will see you home, and we will do our best for the 
— the — foreign gentleman thus unceremoniously cast on 
our shores.” 

My uncle seemed to regard magnificence of speech 
as the natural due of a foreigner : whether from some 
hazy conception of “ foreign politeness,” or a hasty 
deduction that what was not the language of one part 
of the world must be that of another, I cannot say. 
At any rate, the fishermen regarded him approvingly as 
the one man who could — if human powers were equal to 
it — extricate them from the present deadlock. 

<( You do not happen, my friend, to be in a position 
to inform us whether any — pardon the expression — any 
corpses are now lying on the rocks to bear witness to 
this sad catastrophe ? 39 

Again the stranger made a gesture of perplexity. 

" Dear, dear 1 I forgot. Jasper, when you get home, 
read very carefully that passage about the Tower of 
Babel. Whatever the cause of that melancholy con- 
fusion, its reality is impressed upon us when we stand 
E 


DEAD MAN'S EOCK. 


feO 

face to face with one whom I may perhaps be allowed 
to call, metaphorically, a dweller in Mesopotamia." 

As no one answered, my uncle took silence for con- 
sent, and called him so twice — to his own great satis- 
faction and the obvious awe of the fishermen. 

“ It is evident/’ he continued, “ that this gentleman 
(call him by what name you will) is in immediate need 
of food and raiment. If such, as I do not doubt, can 
be obtained at Polkimbra, our best course is to accom- 
pany him thither. I trust my proposition meets with 
his approval." 

It met, at any rate, with the approval of the fisher- 
men, who translated Uncle Loveday's speech into 
gestures. Being answered with a nod of the head and 
a few hasty foreign words, they began to lead the 
stranger away in their midst. As he turned to go, he 
glanced for the last time at me with a strange flickering 
smile, at which my heart grew sick. Uncle Loveday 
lingered behind to adjure Joe to be careful of me as we 
went up the cliff, and then, with a promise that he 
would run in to see mother later in the day, trotted 
after the rest. They passed out of sight through the 
archway of Dead Man's Bock. 

For a minute or so we plodded across the sand in 
silence. Joe Roscorla was Uncle Loveday's “ man," a 
word in our parts connoting ability to look after a 
horse, a garden, a pig or two, or, indeed, anything 
that came in the way of being looked after. At the 
present moment I came in that way; consequently, 


joe's opinion. 


51 


after some time spent in reflective silence, Joe began 
to speak. 

“ You'm looking wisht." 

“Am I, Joe?" 

“ Mortal." 

There was a pause : then J oe continued — 

“ I don't hold by furriners : let alone they be so 
hard to get along with in the way of convarsing, they 
be but a heathen lot. But, Jasper, warn't it beauti- 
ful?" 

“What, Joe?" 

“ Why, to see the doctor tackle the lingo. Beau- 
tiful, I calls it; but there, he's a scholard, and no mis- 
take, and 'tain't no good for to say he ain't. Not as 
ever I've heerd it said." 

“ But, Joe, the man didn't seem to understand 
him." 

“ Durn all furriners, say I ; they be so cursed pig- 
headed. Understand ? Til go bail he understood fast 
enough." 

Joe's opinions coincided so fatally with my certainty 
that I held my tongue. 

“ A dweller in — what did he call the spot, Jasper ? " 

“ Mesopotamia." 

“ Well, I can't azacly say as I've seen any from them 
parts, but they be all of a piece. Thicky chap warn't 
in the way when prettiness was sarved out, anyhow. 

Of all the cut-throat chaps as ever I see Mark 

my words, 'tain't no music as he's come after." 
k 9 


52 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


This seemed so indisputable that J did not venture 
to contradict it. 

“ I bain't clear about thicky wreck. Likely as not 
'twas the one I seed all yesterday tacking about : and 
if so be as I be right, a pretty lot of lubbers she must 
have had aboard. Jonathan, the coast-guard, came 
down to Lizard Town this morning, and said he seed 
a big vessel nigh under the cliffs toward midnight, or 
fancied he seed her : but f ustly J onathan's a buffi e- 
head, and secondly 'twas pitch-dark ; so if as he swears 
there weren’t no blue light, ’t ain't likely any man could 
see, let alone a daft fule like Jonathan. But, there, 
'tain’t no good for to blame he ; durn Government ! say 
I, for settin' one man, and him a bom fule, to mind 
seven mile o’ coast on a night when an airey mouse 
cou'dn’ see his hand afore his face/' 

€i What was the vessel like, J oe, that you saw ? ” 

“ East Indyman, by the looks of her ; and a passel of 
lubberin' furriners aboard, by the way she was worked. 
I seed her miss stays twice myself : so when Jonathan 
turns up wi' this tale, I says to myself, 'tis the very 
same. Though 'tis terrible queer he never heard nowt ; 
but he ain't got a ha'porth o’ gumption, let alone that 
by time he's been cloppin' round his seven mile o' beat 
half a dozen ships might go to kingdom come/' 

With this, for we had come to the door of Lantrig, 
Joe bid me good-bye, and turned along the cliffs to seek 
fresh news at Polkimbra. 

Instead of going indoors at once I watched his short, 


I EXAMINE MY LEGACY. 


53 


oddly-shaped figure stride away, and then sat down on 
the edge of the cliff for a minute to collect my thoughts. 
The day was ripening into that mellow glory which is 
the peculiar grace of autumn. Below me the sea, still 
flaked with spume, was gradually heaving to rest; the 
morning light outlined the cliffs in glistening promi- 
nence, and clothed them, as well as the billowy clouds 
above, with a reality which gave the lie to my morning's 
adventure. The old doorway, too, looked so familiar 
and peaceful, the old house so reassuring, that I half 
wondered if I had not two lives, and were not coming 
back to the old quiet everyday experience again. 

Suddenly I remembered the packet and the letter. 
I put my hand into my pocket and drew them out. The 
packet was a tin box, strapped around with a leathern 
band : on the top, between the band and the box, was a 
curious piece of yellow metal that looked like the half 
of a waist-buckle, having a socket but without any 
corresponding hook. On the metal were traced some 
characters which I could not read. The tin box was 
heavy and plain, and the strap soaking with salt water. 

I turned to the letter ; it was all but a pulp, and in 
its present state illegible. Carefully smoothing it out, 
I slipped it inside the strap and turned to hide my 
prize ; for such was my fear of the man who called him- 
self Apollyon, that I could know no peace of mind 
whilst it remained about me. How should I hide it? 
After some thought, I remembered that a stone or two 
in the now empty cow-house had fallen loose. With a 


54 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


hasty glance over my shoulder, I crept around and into 
the shed. The stones came away easily in my hand. 
With another hurried look, I slipped the packet into the 
opening, stole out of the shed, and entered the house by 
the back door. 

My mother had been up for some time — it was now 
about nine o'clock — and had prepared our breakfast. 
Her face was still pale, but some of its anxiety left it 
as I entered. She was evidently waiting for me to 
speak. Something in my looks, however, must have 
frightened her, for, as I said nothing, she began to 
question me. 

“ Well, Jasper, is there any news ? " 

“ There was a ship wrecked on Dead Man's Rock 
last night, but they've not found anything except " 

" What was it called ? " 

“The Mary Jane — that is — I don't quite know." 

Up to this time I had forgotten that mother would 
want to know about my doings that morning. As an 
ordinary thing, of course I should have told her what- 
ever I had seen or heard, but my terror of the Captain 
and the awful consequences of saying too much now 
flashed upon me with hideous force. I had heard about 
the Mary Jane from the unhappy John. What if I 
had already said too much ? I bent over my breakfast 
in confusion. 

After a dreadful pause, during which I felt, though 
I could not see, the astonishment in my mother’s eyes, 
she said — 


MOTHER AND SON. 


55 


“ You don't quite know ? " 

" No ; I think it must have been the Mary Jane , 
but there was a strange sailor picked up. Uncle Love- 
day found him, and he seemed to be a foreigner, 
and he said — I mean — I thought — it was the name, 
but " 

This was worse and worse. Again at my wits' end, 
I tried to go on with my breakfast. After awhile I 
looked up, and saw my mother watching me with a 
look of mingled surprise and reproach. 

“ Was this sailor the only one saved ? " 

“No — that is, I mean — yes; they only found one." 

I had never lied to my mother before, and almost 
broke down with the effort. Words seemed to choke 
me, and her saddening eyes filled me with torment. 

“ Jasper dear, what is the matter with you ? Why 
are you so strange ? " 

I tried to look astonished, but broke down miserably. 
Do what I would, my eyes seemed to be beyond my 
control ; they would not meet her steady gaze. 

“ Uncle Loveday is coming up later on. He's look- 
ing after the Cap — I mean the sailor, and said he 
would run in afterwards." 

“ What is this sailor like ? " 

This question fairly broke me down. Between my 
dread of the Captain and her pained astonishment, I 
could only sit stammering and longing for the earth to 
gape and swallow me up. Suddenly a dreadful sus- 
picion struck my mother. 


56 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


“ Jasper ! Jasper ! it cannot be — you cannot mean— 
that it was his ship ? ” 

“ No, mother, no ! Father is all right. He said — 
I mean — it was not his ship.” 

“ Oh ! thank God ! But you are hiding something 
from me 1 What is it ? J asper dear, what are you 
hiding?” 

“ Mother, I think it was the Mary Jane . But 
it was not father’s ship. Father’s all right. And, 
mother, don’t ask me any more ; Uncle Loveday will 
tell all about it. And — I’m not very well, mother. I 
think ” 

Want of sleep, indeed, and the excitement of the 
morning, had broken me down. My mother stifled hei 
desire to hear more, and tenderly saw me to bed, guess- 
ing my fatigue, but only dimly apprehensive of any- 
thing beyond. In bed I lay all that morning, but 
could get no sleep. The vengeance of that dreadful 
man seemed to fill the little room and charge the atmo- 
sphere with horror. “ I come on them in bed some- 
times, and sometimes from behind when they’re not 
looking ” — the words rang in my ears, and could not be 
muffled by the bed-clothes ; whilst, if I began to doze, 
the dreadful burthen of his song — 

u And the devil has got his due, my lads — 

Sing ho ! but he waits for you ! ” — 

with the peculiar catch of its lilt, would suddenly make 
me start up, wide awake, with every nerve in my body 
dancing to its grisly measure. 


I DREAM. 


67 


At last, towards noon, I dozed off into a restless 
slumber, but only to see each sight and hear each sound 
repeated with every grotesque and fantastic variation. 
Dead Man's Rock rose out of a sea of blood, peopled 
with hundreds of ghastly faces, each face the distorted 
likeness of John or the Captain. Blood was every- 
where — on their shirts, their hands, their faces, in 
splashes across the rock itself, in vivid streaks across 
the spume of the sea. The very sun peered through a 
blood-red fog, and the waves, the mournful gulls, the 
echoes from the cliff, took up the everlasting chorus, 
led by one silvery demoniac voice — 

“ Sing ho ! but he waits for yon ! ” 

Finally, as I lay tossing and tormented with this 
phantom horror in my eyes and ears, the sound died 
imperceptibly away into the soft hush of two well- 
known voices, and I opened my eyes to see mother with 
Uncle Loveday standing at my bedside. 

The boy’s a bit feverish," said my uncle's voice ; 
“ he has not got over his fright just yet." 

“ Hush ! he’s waking 1 " replied my mother ; and 
as I opened my eyes she bent down and kissed me. 
How inexpressibly sweet was that kiss after the night- 
mare of my dream ! 

“ Jasper dear, are you better now ? Try to lie 
down and get some more sleep." 

But I was eager to know what news Uncle Love- 
day had to tell, so I sat up and questioned him. There 


68 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


was little enough; though, delivered with much pomp, 
it took some time in telling. Roughly, it came to 
this : — 

A body had been discovered — the body of a small 
infant — washed up on the Polkimbra Beach. This 
would give an opportunity for an inquest ; and, in fact, 
the coroner was to arrive that afternoon from Penzance 
with an interpreter for the evidence of the strange 
sailor, who, it seemed, was a Greek. Little enough 
had been got from him, hut he seemed to imply that 
the vessel had struck upon Dead Man's Rock from the 
south-west, breaking her back upon its sunken base, 
and then slipping out and subsiding in the deep water. 
It must have happened at high tide, for much coffee 
and basket-work was found upon high-water line. This 
fixed the time of the disaster at about 4 a.m., and my 
mother's eyes met mine, as we both remembered that it 
was about that hour when we heard the wild despairing 
cry. For the rest, it was hopeless to seek information 
from the Greek sailor without an interpreter ; nor 
were there any clothes or identifying marks on the 
child's body. The stranger had been clothed and 
fed at the Vicarage, and would give his evidence that 
afternoon. Hitherto, the name of the vessel was un- 
known. 

At this point my mother's eyes again sought mine, 
and I feared fresh inquiries about the Mary Jane ; but, 
luckily, Uncle Loveday had recurred to the question 
of the Tower of Babel, on which he delivered several 


AT THE “LUGGER.” 


69 


profound reflections. Seeing me still disinclined to 
explain, she merely sighed, and was silent. 

But when Uncle Loveday had broken his fast and, 
rising, announced that he must drive down to be pre- 
sent at the inquest, to our amazement, mother insisted 
upon going with him. Having no suspicion of her 
deadly fear, he laughed a little at first, and quoted 
Solomon on the infirmities of women to an extent that 
made me wonder what Aunt Loveday would have said 
had he dared broach such a subject to that strong- 
minded woman. Seeing, however, that my mother was 
set upon going, he desisted at last, and put his cart at 
her service. Somewhat to her astonishment, as I could 
see, I asked to be allowed to go also, and, after some 
entreaty, prevailed. So we all set out behind Uncle 
Loveday's over-fed pony for Polkimbra. 

There was a small crowd around the door of the 
“ Lugger Inn ” when we drove up. It appeared that 
the coroner had just arrived, and the inquest was to 
begin at once. Meanwhile, the folk were busy with 
conjecture. They made way, however, for my uncle, 
who, being on such occasions a person of no little im- 
portance, easily gained us entry into the Bed Boom 
where the inquiry was about to be held. As we 
stepped along the passage, the landlord’s parrot, look- 
ing more than ever like Aunt Elizabeth, almost 
frightened me out of my wits by crying, “ All hands 
lost 1 All hands lost ! Lord ha' mercy on us ! ” Its 
hoarse note still sounded in my ears, when the door 


60 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


opened, and we stood in presence of the “crowner’s 
quest.” 

I suppose the Red Room of the “Lugger” was 
full ; and, indeed, as the smallest inquest involves at 
least twelve men and a coroner, to say nothing of wit- 
nesses, it must have been very full. But for me, as 
soon as my foot crossed the threshold, there was only 
one face, only one pair of eyes, only one terrible pre- 
sence, to be conscious of and fear. I saw him at once, 
and he saw me ; but, unless it were that his cruel eye 
glinted and his lips grew for the moment white and 
fixed, he betrayed no consciousness of my presence 
there. 

The coroner was speaking as we entered, but his 
voice sounded as though far away and faint. Uncle 
Loveday gave evidence, and I have a dim recollection 
of two rows of gleaming buttons, but nothing more. 
Then Jonathan, the coast-guardsman, was called, tie 
had seen, or fancied he saw, a ship in distress near 
Gue Graze ; had noticed no light nor heard any signal 
of distress ; had given information at Lizard Town. 
The rocket apparatus had been got out, and searchers 
had scoured the cliffs as far as Porth Pyg, but nothing 
was to be seen. The search-party were returning, when 
they found a shipwrecked sailor in company with a 
small boy, one Jasper Trenoweth, in Ready-Money 
Cove. 

At the sound of my own name I started, and for the 
second time since our entry felt the eyes of the stranger 


THE GREEK SAILOR. 


61 


question me. At tlie same time I felt my mother's 
clasp of my hand tighten, and knew that she saw that 
look. 

The air grew closer and the walls seemed to draw 
nearer as Jonathan’s voice continued its drowsy tale. 
The afternoon sun poured in at the window until it 
made the little wainscoted parlour like an oven, hut 
still for me it only lit up one pair of eyes. The voices 
sounded more and more like those of a dream; the 
scratching of pens and shuffling of feet were, to my 
ears, as distant murmurs of the sea, until the coroner's 
voice called — “ Georgio Rhodojani." 

Instantly I was wide awake, with every nerve on 
the stretch. Again I felt his eyes question me, again 
my mother's hand tightened upon mine, as the stranger 
stood up and in softest, most musical tones gave his 
evidence. And the evidence of Georgio Rhodojani, 
Greek sailor, as translated by Jacopo Rousapoulos, 
interpreter, of Penzance, was this : — 

“ My name is Georgio Rhodojani. I am a Greek 
by birth, and have been a sailor all my life. I was sea- 
man on hoard the ship which was wrecked last night on 
your horrible coast. The ship belonged to Bristol, and 
was homeward bound, but I know neither her name nor 
the name of her captain." 

At this strange opening, amazement fell upon all. 
For myself, the wild incongruity of this foreign tongue 
from lips which I had heard utter such fluent and 
flute-like English swallowed up all other wonder. 


62 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


After a pause, seeing the marvelling looks of his 
audience, the witness quietly explained — 

“ You wonder at this ; but I am Greek, and cannot 
master your hard names. I joined the ship at Colombo 
as the captain was short of hands. I was wrecked in 
a Dutch vessel belonging to Dordrecht, off Java, and 
worked my passage to Ceylon, seeking employment. 
It is not, therefore, extraordinary that I am so ignorant, 
and my mouth cannot pronounce your English language, 
but show me your list of ships and I will point her 
out to you." 

There was a rustling of papers, and a list of East 
Indiamen was handed up to him : he hastily ran his 
finger over the pages. Suddenly his face lighted up. 

“ Ah ! this is she I — this is the ship that was 
wrecked last night ! 99 

The coroner took the paper and slowly read out 
— “ The James and Elizabeth, of Bristol. Captain — 
Antonius Merrydew." 

i( Ah, yes, that is she. The babe here was the cap- 
tain's child, born on the voyage. There were eighteen 
men on board, an English boy, and the captain's wife. 
The child was born off the African coast. We sailed 
from Colombo on the 22nd of July last, with a cargo 
of coffee and sugar. Two days ago we were off a big 
harbour, of which I do not know the name ; but early 
yesterday morning were abreast of what you call, I 
think, the Lizard. The wind was S.W., and took us 
into your terrible bay. All yesterday we were tacking 


STRANGE EVIDENCE. 


63 


to get out. Towards evening it blew a gale. The 
captain had been ill ever since we passed the Bay of 
Biscay. We hoisted no signal, and knew not what to 
do, for the captain was sick, and the mate drunk. The 
mate began to cry when we struck. I alone got on to 
the jib-boom and jumped. What became of the others 
I know not, but I jumped on to the rock by which you 
found me this morning. The vessel broke up in a very 
short time. I heard the men crying bitterly, but the 
mate's voice was louder than any. The captain of 
course was below, and so, when last I saw them, were 
his wife and child, but she might have rushed upon 
deck. I was almost sucked back twice, but managed 
to scramble up. It was not until daylight that I knew 
I was on the mainland, and climbed down to the 
sands." 

As this strange history proceeded, I know not who 
in that little audience was most affected. The jury, 
fascinated by the sweet voice of the speaker, as well 
as the mystery about the vessel and its unwitnessed 
disappearance, leant forward in their seats with strained 
and breathless attention. My mother could not take 
her eyes off the stranger's face. As he hesitated over 
the name of the ship, her very lips grew white in 
agonised suspense, but when the coroner read “the James 
and Elizabeth ” she sank back in her seat with a low 
“ Thank God ! " that told me what she had dreaded, and 
how terribly. I myself knew not what to think, nor if 
my ears had heard aright. Part of the tale I knew to 


64 * 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


be a lie ; but how much ? And what of the Mary 
Jane ? I looked round about. A hush had succeeded 
the closing words of Rhodojani. Even the coroner was 
puzzled for a moment ; but improbable as the evidence 
might seem, there was none to gainsay it. I alone, 
had they but known it, could give this demon the lie — 
I, an unnoticed child. 

The coroner put a question or two and then summed 
up. Again the old drowsy insensibility fell upon me. 
I heard the jury return the usual verdict of “Acci- 
dental Death," and, as my mother led me from the 
room, the voice of Joe Roscorla (who had been on the 
jury) saying, “ Durn all foreigners ! I don't hold by 
none of 'em." As the door slammed behind us, 
shutting out at last those piercing eyes, a shrill screech 
from the landlord's parrot echoed through the house — 

" All hands lost ! Lord ha’ mercy on us i " 


CHAPTER VI. 


TELLS HOW A FACE LOOKED IN AT THE WINDOW OF 
LANTRIG; AND IN WHAT MANNER MY FATHER CAME 
HOME TO US. 

My mother and I walked homeward together by way of 
the cliffs. We were both silent. My heart ached to 
tell the whole story, and prove that my tale of the 
Mary Jane was no wanton lie ; but fear restrained me. 
My mother was busy with her own thoughts. She had 
seen, I knew, the glance of intelligence which the 
stranger gave me; she guessed that his story was a 
lie and that I knew it. What she could not guess was 
the horror that held my tongue fastened as with a 
padlock. So, both busy with bitter thoughts, we walked 
in silence to Lantrig. 

The evening meal was no better. My food choked 
me, and after a struggle I was forced to let it lie almost 
untouched. But when the fire was stirred, the candles 
lit, and I drew my footstool as usual to her feet by the 
hearth, the old room looked so warm and cosy that my 
pale fears began to vanish in its genial glow. I had 
possessed myself of the (C Pilgrim's Progress," and the 
volume, a dumpy octavo, lay on my knee. As I read 


66 


DEAD MAN'S BOCK. 


the story of Christian and Apollyon to its end, a new 
courage fought in me with my morning fears. 

“ In this combat no man can imagine, unless he has 
seen and heard as I did, what yelling and hideous roar- 
ing Apollyon made all the time of the fight : he spake 
like a dragon ; and, on the other side, what sighs and 
groans burst from Christian's heart. I never saw him 
all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till he 
perceived that he had wounded Apollyon with his two- 
edged sword ; then indeed he did smile and look up- 
ward I but it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw." 

I glanced up at my mother, half resolved. She was 
leaning forward a little and gazing into the fire, that 
lit up her pale face and wonderful eyes with a sympa- 
thetic softness. I can remember now how sweet she 
looked and how weary — that tender figure outlined in 
warm glow against the stern, dark room. And all the 
time her heart was slowly breaking with yearning for 
him that came not. I did not know it then ; but when 
does childhood know or understand the suffering of later 
life ? I looked down upon the page once more, turned 
back a leaf or two, and read : 

“ Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast 
in his mind whether to go back or stand his ground. 
But he considered again that he had no armour for his 
back, and therefore thought that to turn his back to 
him might give him greater advantage, with ease to 
pierce him with his darts ; therefore he resolved to 
venture and stand his ground." 


I RESOLVE TO SPEAK. 


67 


“ 1 come on them in bed sometimes, and sometimes 
from behind." The words of my Apollyon came across 
my mind. Should I speak and seek counsel? — -What 
was that ? 

It was a tear that fell upon my hand as it lay across 
my mother's lap. Since the day when father left us I 
had never seen her weep. Was it for my deceit? I 
looked up again and saw that her eyes were brimming 
with sorrow. My fears and doubts were forgotten. I 
would speak and tell her all my tale. 

“ Mother." 

Somewhat ashamed at being discovered, she dried 
her eyes and tried to smile — a poor pitiful smile, with 
the veriest ghost of joy in it. 

“Yes, Jasper." 

“ Is Apollyon still alive ? " 

" He stands for the powers of evil, Jasper, and they 
are always alive." 

“ But, I mean, does he walk about the world like 
a man ? Is he really alive? " 

“Why, no, Jasper. What nonsense has got into 
your head now ? " 

“ Because, mother, I met him to-day. That is, he 
said he was Apollyon, and that he would come and carry 
me off if " 

Half apprehensive at my boldness, I cast an anxious 
look around as I spoke. Nothing met my eyes but the 
familiar furniture and the dancing shadows on the wall, 
until their gaze fell upon the window, and nested there. 


DEAD MAN'S HOCK. 


whilst my heart grew suddenly stiff with terror, and my 
tongue clave to my mouth. 

As my voice broke off suddenly, mother glanced at 
me in expectation. Seeing my fixed stare and dropped 
jaw, she too looked at the window, then started to her 
feet with a shriek. 

Tor there, looking in upon us with a wicked smile, 
was the white face of the sailor Rhodojani. 

For a second or two, petrified with horror, we 
stood staring at it. The evil smile flickered for a 
moment, baring the white teeth and lighting the depths 
of those wolfish eyes ; then, with a fiendish laugh, 
vanished in the darkness. 

He had, then, told the truth when he promised to 
haunt me. Beyond the shock of mortal terror, I was 
but little amazed. It seemed hut natural that he 
should come as he had threatened. Only I was filled 
with awful expectation of his vengeance, and stood 
aghast at the consequences of my rashness. By in- 
stinct I turned to my mother for protection. 

But what ailed her ? She had fallen back in her 
chair and was still staring with parted lips at the dark 
pane that a minute ago had framed the horrid coun- 
tenance. When at last she spoke, her words were wild 
and meaningless, with a dreadful mockery of laughter 
that sent a swift pang of apprehension to my heart. 

“ Mother, it is gone. What is the matter ? ” 

Again a few meaningless syllables and that awfd 
laugh. 


A FACE AT THE WINDOW. 


69 


And so throughout that second awful night did she 
mutter and laugh, whilst I, helpless and terror-stricken, 
strove to soothe her and recall her to speech and sense. 
The slow hours dragged by, and still I knelt before her 
waiting for the light. The slow clock sounded the hours, 
and still she gave no sign of understanding. The mice 
crept out of their accustomed holes and jumped back 
startled at her laugh. The fire died low and the candles 
died out ; the wind moaned outside, the tamarisk branches 
swished against the pane ; the hush of night, with its 
intervals of mysterious sound, held the house ; hut all 
the time she never ceased to gaze upon the window, and 
every now and then to mutter words that were no echo 
of her mind or voice. Daylight, with its premonitory 
chill, crept upon us at last, but oh, how slowly ! Day- 
light looked in and found us as that cruel sight had left 
us, helpless and alone. 

But with daylight came some courage. Had there 
been neighbours near Lantrig I should have run to 
summon them before, but Polkimbra was the nearest 
habitation, and Polkimbra was almost two miles off, 
across a road possessed by horrors and perhaps tenanted 
by that devilish face. And how could I leave my 
mother alone ? But now that day had come I would 
run to Lizard Town and see Uncle Loveday. I slipped 
on my boots, unbolted the door, cast a last look at my 
mother still sitting helpless and vacant of soul, and 
rushed from the house. The sound of her laughter 
rang in my ears as the door closed behind me. 


70 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


Weak, Haggard and wild of aspect, I ran and 
stumbled along the cliffs. Dead Man's Rock lay below 
wrapped in a curtain of mist. Thick clouds were roll- 
ing up from seaward ; the grey light of returning day 
made sea, sky and land seem colourless and wan. But 
for me there was no sight but Polkimbra ahead. As 
I gained the little village I ran down the hill to the 
“ Lugger" and knocked upon the door. Heavens ! how 
long it was before I was answered. At last the land- 
lady's head appeared at an upper window. With a few 
words to Mrs. Busvargus, which caused that worthy 
soul to dress in haste with many ejaculations, I raced up 
the hill again and across the downs for Lizard Town. 
My strength was giving way ; my head swam, my sides 
ached terribly, my legs almost refused to obey my will, 
and a thousand lights danced and sparkled before my 
eyes, but still I kept on, now staggering, now stumbling, 
but still onward, nor stopped until I stood before Uncle 
Loveday's door. 

There at last I fell ; but luckily against the door, so 
that in a moment or two I became conscious of Aunt 
Elizabeth standing over me and regarding me as a 
culprit caught red-handed in some atrocious crime. 

“ Hoity-toity ! What's the matter now? Why, 
it’s Jasper ! Well, of all the freaks, to come knocking 
us up! What's the matter with the boy? Jasper, 
what ails you ? " 

Incoherently I told my story, at first to Aunt 
Elizabeth alone, but presently, in answer to her call. 


I ASTONISH MY AUNT. 


71 


Uncle Loveday came down to hear. The pair stood 
silent and wondering. 

They were not elaborately dressed. Aunt Elizabeth, 
it is true, was smothered from head to foot in a gigantic 
Inverness cape, that might have been my uncle's were 
it not obviously too large for that little man. Her 
nightcap, on the other hand, was ostentatiously her own. 
No other woman would have had strength of mind to 
wear such a head-dress. Uncle Loveday’s costume was 
3ven more singular; for the first time I saw him with- 
out a single brass button, and for the first time I 
understood how much he owed to those decorations. 
His first words were — 

“ Jasper, I hope you are telling me the truth. Your 
mother told me yesterday of some cock-and-bull story 
concerning the Anna Maria or some such vessel. I hope 
this is not another such case. I have told you often 
enough where little boys who tell falsehoods go to." 

My white face must have been voucher for my 
truth on this occasion; for Aunt Elizabeth cut him 
short with the single word “ Breakfast," and haled me 
into the little parlour whilst the pair went to dress. 

As I waited, I heard the sound of the pony without, 
mid presently Aunt Elizabeth returned in her ordinary 
costume to worry the small servant who laid breakfast. 
Whether Uncle Loveday ever had that meal T do not 
know to this day, for whilst it was being prepared I saw 
him get into the little carriage and drive off towards 
Lantrig. I was told that I could not go until I had 


72 


DEM) MAN’S ROCK 


eaten ; and so with a sore heart, but no thought of dis< 
obedience, I turned to breakfast. 

The meal had scarcely begun when the door opened 
and Master Thomas Loveday sauntered into the room. 
Master Thomas Loveday, a youth of some eight sum- 
mers, was, in default of a home of his own, quartered 
permanently upon my uncle, whose brother’s son he was. 
His early days had been spent in India. After, how- 
ever, both father and mother had succumbed to the 
climate of Madras, he was sent home to England, and 
had taken root in Lizard Town. Hitherto, his life had 
been one long lazy slumber. Whenever we were sent, 
on his rare visits to Lantrig, to “play together,” as 
old age always rudely puts it, his invariable rule had 
been to go to sleep on the first convenient spot. Conse- 
quently his presence embarrassed me not a little. He 
was a handsome boy, with blue eyes, long lashes, fair 
hair, and a gentle habit of speech. When I came to 
know him better, I learnt the quick wit and subtle 
power that lay beneath his laziness of manner ; but at 
present the soul of Thomas Loveday slept. 

He was certainly not wide awake when he entered 
the room. With a sleepy nod at me, and no trace of 
surprise at my presence, he pursued his meal. Occasion- 
ally, as Aunt Elizabeth put a fresh question, he would 
regard her with a long stare, but otherwise gave no 
sign of animation. This finally so exasperated my aunt 
that she addressed him — 

“ Thomas, do not stare.” 


TnOMAS LOVEDAY. 


73 


Thomas looked mildly surprised for a moment, and 
then inquired, “ Why not ? ” 

“Does the hoy think Fm a wild Indian?” The 
question was addressed to me, hut I could not say, so 
kept a discreet silence. Thomas relieved me from my 
difficulty by answering, “ No,” thoughtfully. 

“ Then why stare so ? Fm sure I don't know what 
boys are made of, nowadays.” 

a Slugs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails,” was the 
dreamy answer. 

“Thomas, how dare you? I should like to catch 
the person who taught you such nonsense. I'd teach 
him ! '' 

“It was Uncle Loveday,” remarked the innocent 
Thomas. 

There was an awful pause ; which I broke at length 
by asking to be allowed to go. Aunt Elizabeth saw her 
way to getting rid of the offender. 

“Thomas, you might walk with Jasper over the 
downs to Lantrig. It will be nice exercise for you.” 

" It may be exercise, aunt, but 33 

“ Do not answer me, but go. Where do you expect 
little boys will go to, who are always idle ? '' 

“ Sleep ? ” hazarded Thomas. 

“ Thomas, you shall learn the whole of Dr. Watts's 
poem on the sluggard before you go to bed this night.” 

At this the hoy slowly rose, took his cap, stood 
before her, and solemnly repeated the whole of that 
melancholy tale, finishing the last line at the door and 


74 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


gravely bowing himself out. I followed, awestruck, ant 
we set out in silence. 

At first, anxiety for my mother possessed all my 
thoughts, but presently I ventured to congratulate Tcm 
on his performance. 

“ She has read it to me so often/' replied he, “ that 
I can’t help knowing it. I hate Dr. Watts, and I love 
to go to sleep. I dream such jolly things. Sleep is 
ever so much nicer than being awake, isn't it ? " 

I wanted sleep, having had but little for two nights, 
and could therefore agree with him. 

“ You get such jolly adventures when you dream," 
said Tom, reflectively. 

I had been rather surfeited with adventures lately, 
so held my peace. 

“ Now, real life is so dull. If one could only meet 
with adventures " 

I caught the sound of wheels behind us, and turned 
round. We had struck off the downs on to the high 
road. A light gig with one occupant was approaching 
us. As it drew near the driver hailed us* 

“ Hullo ! lads, is this the road for Polkimbra ? " 

The speaker was a short, grizzled, seafaring man, 
with a kind face and good-humoured mouth. He drove 
execrably, and pulled his quiet mare right back upon her 
haunches. 

I answered that it was. 

“ Are you bound for there ? Yes ? Jump up timn. 
I’ll give you a lift/' 


WE HAVE A LIFT. 


75 


I looked at Tom ; he, of course, was ready for any- 
thing that would save trouble, so we clambered up beside 
the stranger. 

u There was a wreck there yesterday, I've heard,” 
said he, after we had gone a few yards, “ and an inquest, 
and, by the tale I heard, a lot of lies told.” 

I started. The man did not notice it, but con- 
tinued — 

“ Maybe you’ve heard of it. Well, it's a rum world, 
and a fine lot of lies gets told every day, but you don't 
often get so accomplished a liar as that chap — what's 
his name? Blessed if I can tackle it; not but what it's 
another lie, I'll wager.” 

I was listening intently. He continued more to 
himself than to us — 

“ An amazing liar, though I wonder what his game 
was. It beats me ; beats me altogether. The ‘ James 
and Elizabeth? says he, as large as life. I take it the 
fellow couldn't 'a been fooling who brought the news to 
Falmouth. Didn't know me from Adam, and was fairly 
put about when he saw how I took it, and, says he, 
‘ 'twas the James and Elizabeth the chap said, as sure as 
I stand here.' Boy, do you happen to know the name 
of the vessel that ran ashore here, night afore last ? '' 

I had grown accustomed to being asked this dreadful 
question, and therefore answered as bravely as I could, 
“ The James and Elizabeth , sir.” 

“ Captain's name ? " 

" Captain Antonius Merry dew.” 


76 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ All, poor chap ! He was lying sick below when 
she struck, wasn't he ? And he had a wife aboard, and 
a child born at sea, hadn't he ? Fell sick in the Bay 
o' Biscay, like any land-lubber, didn't he ? Why, 'tis 
like play-actin' ; damme ! ’tis better than that." 

With this the man burst into a shout of laughter 
and slapped his thigh until his face grew purple with 
merriment. 

“ What d'ye think of it, boy, for a rare farce ? Was 
ever the likes of it heard ? Captain Antonius Merry dew 
sick in the Bay o' Biscay ! Ho, ho ! Where’s play- 
actin' beside it ? " 

“ Wasn't it true, sir ? " 

“ True ? God bless the boy ! Look me in the face : 
look me in the face, and then ask me if it's true." 

“ But why should it not be true, sir ? " 

“ Because I am Captain Antonius Merrydew ! " 

For the rest of the journey I sat stunned. Thomas 
beside me was wide awake and staring, seeing his way 
to an adventure at last. It was I that dreamed — I heard 
without comprehension the rest of the captain's tale : — 
how he had come, after a quick passage from Ceylon, 
to Falmouth with the barque James and Elizabeth , just 
in time to hear of this monstrous lie ; how he was un- 
married, and never had a day's illness in his life ; how, 
suspecting foul play, he had hired a horse and gig with 
a determination to drive over to Polkimbra and learn 
the truth ; how a horse and gig were the most cursedlv 
obstinate of created things ; with much besides in the 


CAPTaIN ANTONI US MERRYDEW. 


77 


way of oaths and ejaculations. All this I must have 
heard, for memory brought them back later ; but I did 
not listen. My life and circumstances had got the 
upper hand of me, and were dancing a devil's riot. 

At last, after much tacking and porting of helm, 
we navigated Polkimbra Hill and cast anchor before the 
“ Lugger." There we alighted, thanked the captain, 
and left him piping all hands to the horse's head. 
His cheery voice followed us down to the sands. 

We had determined to cut across Polkimbra Beach 
and climb up to Lantrig by Ready-Money Cliffs, as in 
order to go along the path above the cliffs we should 
have to ascend Polkimbra Hill again. The beach was 
so full of horror to me that without a companion I could 
not have crossed it ; but Tom's presence lent me courage. 
Tom was nearer to excitement than I had ever seen 
him ; he grew voluble ; praised the captain, admired his 
talk, and declared adventure to be abroad in the air — • 
in fact, threw up his head as though he scented it. 

Yes, adventure was in the air. It was not exactly 
to my taste, however, nor did the thought of my poor 
mother at home make me more sympathetic with Tom's 
ecstasy; so whilst he chattered I strode gloomily for- 
ward over the beach. 

The day was drawing towards noon. October was 
revelling in an after-taste of summer, and smiled in 
broad glory over beach and sea. A light breeze bore 
eastward a few fleecy clouds, and the waves danced and 
murmured before its breath. Their salt scent was in 


78 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


our nostrils, and tlie glitter of the sand in our eyes 
Black and sombre in the clear air, Dead Man’s Bock 
rose in gloomy isolation from the sea, while the sea- 
birds swept in glistening circles round its summit. But 
what was that at its base ? 

Seemingly, a little knot of men stood at the water's 
edge. As we drew nearer I could distinguish their 
forms but not their occupation, for they stood in a circle, 
intent on some object in their midst concealed from our 
view. Presently, however, they fell into a rough line 
as though making for the archway to Ready-Money 
Cove. Something they carried among them, and con- 
tinually stooped over ; but what it was I could not see. 
Their pace was very slow, but they turned into the arch 
and were disappearing, when I caught sight of the un- 
couth little figure of Joe Roscorla among the last, and 
ran forward, hailing him by name. 

At the sound of my voice Joe started, turned round 
and made a slow pause ; then, with a few words to his 
neighbour, came quickly towards me. As he drew 
near, I saw that his face was white and his manner full 
of embarrassment ; but he put on a smile, and spok*» 
first — 

“ Why, Jasper, what be doin' along here ? " 

“ I'm going home. Has Uncle Loveday seen mother ? 
And is she better ? " 

“ Aw iss, he've a seen her an' she be quieter : least- 
ways, he be bound to do her a power o' good. But 
what be goin' back for ? 'Tain't no use botherin' in- 


CURIOUS BEHAVIOUR OF JOE ROSCORLA. 


79 


doors wi* your mother in thicky wisht state. Run 
about an* get some play.** 

‘‘What were you doing down by the Rock just 
now, Joe?** 

J oe hesitated for a while ; stammered, and then said, 
a Nuthin.** 

“ But, J oe, you were doing something : what were 
you carrying over to Ready-Money ? ** 

“ Look-ee here, my lad, run an* play, an’ doan*t ax 
no questions. *Tain*t for little boys to ax questions. 
Now I comes to think of it. Doctor said as you was to 
stay over to Lizard Town, *cos there ain*t no need of a 
passel of boys in a sick house : so run along back.** 
Joe*s voice had a curious break in it, and his whole 
bearing was so unaccountable that I did not wonder 
when Tom quietly said — 

“ Joe, you*re telling lies.** 

Now Joe was, in an ordinary way, the soul of truth : 
so I looked for an explosion. To my surprise, how- 
ever, he took no notice of the insult, but turned again 
to me — 

“ Jasper, lad, run along back : do*ee now.** 

His voice was so full of entreaty that a sudden 
suspicion took hold of me. 

“ Joe, is — has anything happened to mother? ** 

“ Noa, to be sure : she*ll be gettin* well fast enough, 
if so be as you let her be.** 

“ Then 1*11 go and see Uncle Loveday, and find out 
if I am really to go back.** 


80 


DEAD MAN’S BOCK. 


I made a motion to go, but be caught me quickly 
by the arm. 

“ Now, Jasper, doan’t-’ee go : run back, I tell’ee — 
run back — I tell’ee you must go back.” 

His words were so earnest and full of command that 
I turned round and faced him. Something in his eyes 
filled me with sickening fear. 

“ J oe, what were you carrying ? ” 

No answer. 

“ J oe, what were you carrying ? ” 

Still no answer; but an appealing motion of the 
hand. 

“ Joe, what was it ? ” 

“ Go back ! ” he said, hoarsely. “ Go back ! ” 

“I will not, until I have seen what you were 
carrying.” 

“ Go back, boy : for God’s sake go back ! ” 

I wrenched myself from his grasp, and ran with all 
speed. Joe and Tom followed me, but fear gave me 
fleetness. Behind I could hear Joe’s panting voice, 
crying, “ Come back ! ” but the agony in his tone set 
me running faster. I flew through the archway, and 
saw the small procession half-way across the cove. At 
my shout they halted, paused, and one or two advanced 
as if to stop me. But I dashed through their hands 
into their midst, and saw — God in heaven ! What ? 
The drowned face of my father ! 

Tenderly as women they lifted me from the body. 
Gently and with tear-stained faces, they stood around 


MY FATHER uOMES HOME. 


81 


and tried to comfort me. Reverently, while Joe Ros- 
corla held me in his arms behind, they took up the 
corpse of him they had known and loved so well, and 
carried it up the cliffs to Lantrig. As they lifted the 
latch and bore the body across the threshold, a yell of 
maniac laughter echoed through the house to the very 
roof. 

And this was my father's “ Welcome Home ! " 

Nay, not all; for as Uncle Loveday started to his 
feet, the door behind him flew open, and my mother, all 
in white, with very madness in her eyes, rushed to the 
corpse, knelt, caught the dead hand, kissed and fondled 
the dead face, cooing and softly laughing the while with 
a tender rapture that would have moved hell itself to 
pity. 

In this manner it was that these two fond lovers 
met. 


CHAPTER VII. 

TELLS HOW UNCLE LOYEDAY MADE A DISCOVERY ; AND 
WHAT THE TIN BOX CONTAINED. 

An hour afterwards I was sitting at tlie bedside of my 
dying mother. The shock of that terrible meeting had 
brought her understanding — and death : for as her 
mind returned her life ebbed away. White and placid 
she lay upon her last bed, and spoke no word ; but in 
her eyes could be read her death-warrant, and by me 
that which was yet more full of anguish, a tender but 
unfading reproach. This world is full of misunder- 
standings, but seldom is met one so desperate. How 
could I tell her now ? And how could she ever under- 
stand ? It was all too late. “ Too late ! too late ! 33 
the words haunted me there as the bright sun struggled 
through the drawn blind and illumined her saintly 
face. They and the look in her sweet eyes have haunted 
me many a day since then, and would be with me yet, 
did I not believe she knows the truth at last. There 
are too many ghosts in my memories for Heaven to 
lightly add this one more. 

She was dying — slowly and peacefully dying, and 
this was the end of her waiting. He had returned at 


THE SANDS BUN OUT. 


83 


last, tliis husband for whose coming she had watched so 
long. He had returned at last, after all his labour, and 
had been laid at her feet a dead man. She was free to 
go and join her love. To me, child as I was, this was 
sorely cruel. Death, as I know now, is very merciful 
even when he seems most merciless, but as I sat and 
watched the dear life slowly drift away from me, it was 
a hard matter to understand. 

The pale sunlight came, and flickered, and went; 
but she lay to all seeming unchanged. Her pulse's 
beat was failing — failing ; the broken heart feebly 
struggling to its rest ; but her sad eyes were still the 
same, appealing, questioning, rebuking — all without 
hope of answer or explanation. So were they when the 
sobbing fishermen lifted her from the body, so would 
they be until closed for the last sleep. It was very 
cruel. 

My father's body lay in the room below, with Uncle 
Loveday and Mrs. Busvargus for watchers. Now and 
again my uncle would steal softly upstairs, and as softly 
return with hopelessness upon his face. The clock 
downstairs gave the only sound I heard, as it marked 
the footsteps of the dark angel coming nearer and 
nearer. Twice my mother's lips parted as if to speak ; 
but though I bent down to catch her words, I could 
hear no sound. 

So, as I sat and watched her waxen face, all the 
sweet memories of her came back in a sad, reproachful 
train. Once more we sat together by the widowed hearth. 


84 


DEAD MAN'S EOCK. 


reading : once more we stood upon the rocky edge of 
Pedn-glas and looked into the splendours of the summer 
sunset “ for father's ship : " once more we knelt to- 
gether in Polkimbra Church, and prayed for his safe 
return : once more I heard that sweet, low voice — once 
more ? Ah, never, never more I 

Uncle Loveday stole into the room on tip-toe, and 
looked at her ; then turned and asked — 

“ Has she spoken yet ? " 

“No." 

He was about to leave when the lips parted again, 
and this time she spoke — 

“ He is coming, coming. Hush ! that is his step ! " 

The dark eyes were ablaze with expectation : the 
pale cheek aglow with hope. I bent down over the 
bed, for her voice was very low. 

“ He is coming, I know it. Listen ! Oh, husband, 
come quicker, quicker ! " 

Alas ! poor saint, the step you listen for has gone 
before, and is already at the gate of heaven. 

“ He is here ! Oh, husband, husband, you have 
come for me 1 " 

A moment she sat up with arms outstretched, and 
glory in her face; then fell back, and the arms that 
caught her were the arms of God. 

****** 

After the first pang of bereavement had spent itself, 
Uncle Loveday got me to bed, and there at last I slept. 


MT MOTHER ENDS HER WAITING. 


85 


The very bewilderment of so much sorrow enforced 
sleep, and sleep was needed : so that, worn out with 
watching- and excitement, I had. not so much as a dream 
to trouble me. It was ten o’clock in the morning when 
I awoke, and saw my uncle sitting beside the bed. 
Another sun was bright in the heavens outside : the 
whole world looked so calm and happy that my first 
impulse was to leap up and run, as was my custom, to 
mother's room. Then my eyes fell on Uncle Loveday, 
and the whole dreadful truth came surging into my 
awakened brain. I sank back with a low moan upon 
the pillow. 

Uncle Loveday, who had been watching me, stepped 
to the bed and took my hand. 

“ Jasper, boy, are you better?" 

After a short struggle with my grief, I plucked up 
heart to answer that I was. 

l( That's a brave boy. I asked, because I have yet to 
tell you something. I am a doctor, you know, Jasper, 
and so you may take my word when I say there is no 
good in what is called f breaking news.' It is always 
best to have the pain over and done with ; at least, 
that's my experience. Now, my dear boy, though God 
knows you have sorrow enough, there is still something 
to tell : and if you are the boy I take you for, it is best 
to let you know at once." 

Dimly wondering what new blow fortune could 
deal me, I sat up in bed and looked at my uncle 
helplessly. 


80 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ Jasper, you think — do you not — that your father 
was drowned?” 

“ Of course, uncle.” 

“ He was not drowned.” 

“ Not drowned ! ” 

“ No, Jasper, he was murdered.” 

The words came slowly and solemnly, and even with 
the first shock of surprise the whole truth dawned upon 
me. This, then, explained the effect my name had 
wrought upon those two strange men. This was the 
reason why, as we sat together upon Dead Man’s Rock, 
the eyes of J ohn Railton had refused to meet mine : this 
was the reason why his murderer had gripped me so 
viciously upon Ready-Money Beach. These few words 
of my uncle's began slowly to piece together the 
scattered puzzle of the last two days, so that I half 
guessed the answer as I asked — 

“ Murdered ! How ? ” 

“ He was stabbed to death.” 

I knew it, for I remembered the empty sheath that 
hung at Rhodojani's waist, and heard again Railton’s 
words, “ Captain, it was your knife.” As certainly as 
if I had fitted the weapon to its case, I knew that man 
had prompted father's murder. Even as I knew it 
my terror of him faded away, and a blind and helpless 
hate sprang up in its stead : helpless now, but some 
day to be masterful and worthy of heed. That the man 
who called himself Georgio Rhodojani was guilty of one 
death, I knew from the witness of my own eyes : that 


MURDERED ! 


87 


he had two more lives upon his black account — for the 
hand that struck my father had also slain my mother — 
I knew as surely. 

“ And the devil has got his due, my lads ! ** 

No, not yet : there was still one priceless soul for him 
to wait for. 

" He was stabbed/' repeated Uncle Loveday, “ stabbed 
to the heart, and from behind. I found this blade as 
I examined your poor father’s body. It was broken 
off close to the hilt, and left in the wound, which can 
hardly have bled at all. Death must have been imme- 
diate. It’s a strange business, Jasper, and a strange 
blade by the look of it." 

I took the blade from his hand. It was about four 
inches in length, sharp, and curiously worked : one side 
was quite plain, but the other was covered with intricate 
tracery, and down the centre, bordered with delicate 
fruit and flowers, I spelt out the legend “ Ricordati." 

“ What does that word mean ? " I asked, as I handed 
back the steel. My voice was so calm and steady that 
Uncle Loveday glanced at me for a moment in amaze- 
ment before he answered — 

“ It’s not Latin, J asper, but it’s like Latin, and I 
should think must mean f Remember/ or something of 
the sort." 

“ ‘ Remember/ " I repeated. “ I will, uncle. As 
surely as father was m lrdered, I will remember — when 
the time comes." 


m 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


They were strange words from a boy. My ancle 
looked at me again, but doubtless thinking my brain 
turned with grief, said nothing. 

“ Have you told anybody ? ” I asked at length. 

“ I have seen nobody. There will be an inquest, of 
course, but in this case an inquest can do nothing. 
Murderer and murdered have both gone to their account. 
By the way, I suppose nothing has been seen of the 
man who gave evidence. It was an unlikely tale ; and 
this makes it the more suspicious. Bless my soul ! ” 
said my uncle, suddenly, “ to think it never struck me 
before ! Your father was to sail in the Belle Fortune y 
and this man gave the name of the ship as the James 
and Elizabeth .” 

“ It was the Belle Fortune y and the man told a 
falsehood.” 

“ I suppose it must have been.” 

“ I know it was.” 

“ Know ? How do you know ? ” 

“ Because the James and Elizabeth is lying at this 
moment in Falmouth Harbour, and her captain is down 
at the f Lugger/ ” 

Thereupon I told how I had met with Captain 
Antonius Merrydew. Nay, more, for my heart ached 
for confidence, I recounted the whole story of my meet- 
ing with John Railton, and the struggle upon Dead 
Man’s Rock. Every word I told, down to the dead 
man’s legacy — the packet and letter which I hid in the 
cow-house. As the tale proceeded my uncle’s eyes grew 


I SPEAK. 


89 


wider and wider with astonishment. But I held on 
calmly and resolutely to the end, nor after the first 
shock of wonderment did he doubt my sanity or truth- 
fulness, but grew more and more gravely interested. 

When I had finished my narrative there was a long 
silence. Finally Uncle Loveday spoke — 

“ It's a remarkable story — a very remarkable story,” 
he said, slowly and thoughtfully. “ In all my life I 
have never heard so strange a tale. But the man must 
be caught. He cannot have gone far, if, as you say, 
he was here at Lantrig only the night before last. I 
expect they are on the look-out for him down at Pol- 
kimbra since they have heard the captain's statement ; 
but all the same I will send off Joe Boscorla, who is 
below, to make sure. I must have a pipe, Jasper, to 
think this over. As a general rule I am not a smoker : 
your aunt does not — ahem ! — exactly like the smell. 
But it collects the thoughts, and this wants thinking 
over. Meanwhile, you might dress if you feel well 
enough. Bun to the shed and get the packet ; we will 
read it over together when I have finished my pipe. It 
is a remarkable story,” he repeated, as he slowly opened 
the door, “a most marvellous story. I must have a 
pipe. A most — remarkable — tale.” 

With this he went downstairs and left me to dress. 

I did so, and ran downstairs to the cow-shed. No 
one had been there. With eager fingers I tore away 
the bricks from the crumbling mortar, and drew out 
my prize. The buckle glittered in the light that 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


*H) 

stole through, the gaping door. All was safe, and 
as I left it. 

Clutching my treasure, I ran back to the house and 
found Mrs. Busvargus spreading the midday meal. 
Until that was over, I knew that Uncle Loveday would 
not attack the mystery. He was sitting outside in the 
front garden smoking solemnly, and the wreaths of his 
pipe, curling in through the open door, filled the house 
with fragrance. 

I crept upstairs to my mother’s door, and reverently 
entered the dim-lit room. They had laid the two dead 
lovers side by side upon the bed. Very peacefully they 
slept the sleep that was their meeting — peacefully as 
though no wickedness had marred their lives or wrought 
their death. I could look upon them calmly now. My 
father had left his heritage — a heritage far different 
from that which he went forth to win ; but I accepted 
it nevertheless. Had they known, in heaven, the full 
extent of that inheritance, would they not, as I kissed 
their dead lips in token of my acceptance, have given 
some sign to stay me ? Had I known, as I bent over 
them, to what the oath in my heart would bring me, 
would I even then have renounced it ? I cannot say. 
The dead lips were silent, and only the dead know what 
will be. 

Uncle Loveday was already at table when I de- 
scended. But small was our pretence of eating. Mrs. 
Busvargus, it is true, had lost no appetite through 
sorrow ; but Mrs. Busvargus was accustomed to such 


THE PACKET. 


91 


scenes, and in h‘er calling treated Death with no more 
to-do than she would a fresh customer at her husband's 
inn. Long attendance at death-beds seemed to have 
given that good woman a perennial youth, and certainly 
that day she seemed to have lost the years which I had 
gained. Uncle Loveday made some faint display of 
heartiness; hut it was the most transparent feigning. 
He covered his defection by pressing huge helpings 
upon me, so that my plate was bidding fair to become 
a new Tower of Babel, when Mrs. Busvargus interposed 
and swept the meal away ; after which she disappeared 
into the back kitchen to “ wash up," and was no more 
seen ; but we heard loud splashings at intervals as if 
she had found a fountain, and were renewing her youth 
in it. 

Left to ourselves, we sat silent for a while, during 
which Uncle Loveday refilled and lit his pipe and 
plunged again into thought, with his eyes fixed on the 
rafters. Whether because his cogitations led to some- 
thing, or the tobacco had soothed him sufficiently, he 
finally turned to me and asked — 

“ Have you got that packet ? " 

I produced it. He took his big red handkerchief 
from his pocket, spread it on the table, and began slowly 
to undo the strap. Then after arranging apart the 
buckle, the letter, and the tin box, he inquired — 

“ Was it like this when the man gave it to you ? ” 
“No, the letter was separate. I slipped it under 
the strap to keep it safe.” 


92 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ It seems to me/' said my uncle,, adjusting his 
spectacles and unfolding the paper, “ illegible, or almost 
so. It has evidently been thoroughly soaked with salt 
water. Come here and see if your young eyes can help 
me to decipher it." 

We bent together over the blurred handwriting. 
The letter was evidently in a feminine hand ; but the 
characters were rudely and inartistically formed, while 
every here and there a heavy down-stroke or flourish 
marred the beauty of the page. Wherever such thick 
lines occurred the ink had run and formed an • illegible 
smear. Such as it was, with great difficulty, and after 
frequent trials, we spelt out the letter as follows : — 

“ The Welc . . . Home, Barbican, Plymo. 

“ My Deerest Jack, — This to hope it will find You quite well, 
as it leaves Me at present. Also to say that I hope this voyage 
. . . new Leaf with Simon as Companny, who is a Good F'iend, 
though, as you well know, I did not think . . . came courting 
me. But it is for the best, and . . . liquor . . . which I pray 
to Heaven may begin happier Days. Trade is very poor, and I 
do not know . . . little Jenny, who is getting on Famously with 
her Schooling. She keaps the Books already, which is a great 
saving . . . looks in often and sits in the parlour. He says as 
you have Done Well to be . . . Wave, but misdoubts Simon, 
which I tell him must be wrong, for it was him that advised . . . 
the fuss and warned against liquor, which he never took Himself. 
Jenny is so Fond of her Books, and says she will teech you to 
write when you come home, which will be a great Comfort, you 
being away so long and never a word. And I am doing wonders 
under her teaching, which I dare say she will let you know of it 
all in the letter she is writing to go along with this . . . Simon 
to write for you, who is a . . . scholar, which is natural ... in 
the office. So that I wonder he left it, having no taste for the 


THE LETTER. 


y3 

sea that ever I heard ... be tlio making of you both. I forgot 
to tell . . . very strange when he left, but what with the hurry 
and bussle it slipped my mind . . . wonderful to me to think 
of, my talking to you so natural . . . distance. And so no more 
at present from your loving wife, “ Lucy Railton. 

“Jenny says . . . will not alter, being more like as 

if it came from me. Munny is very scarce. I wish you could 
get . . . ” 

This was all, and small enough, as I thought, was 
the light it threw on the problem before us. Uncle 
Loveday read it over three or four times ; then folded 
up the letter and looked at me over his spectacles. 

“ You say this cut-throat fellow — this Rh odojani, 
as he called himself — spoke English ? ” 

“ As well as we do. He and the other spoke English 
all the time.” 

“ H’m ! And he talked about a Jenny, did he ? ” 

“ He was saying something about ‘ J enny not find- 
ing a husband 3 when John Railton struck him.” 

“ Then it's clear as daylight that he's called Simon, 
and not Georgio. Also if I ever bet (though far be it 
from me) I would bet my buttons that his name is no 
more Rhodojani than mine is Methuselah.” 

He paused for a moment, absorbed in thought ; then 
resumed — 

“ This Lucy Railton is John Rail ton's wife and 
keeps a public-house called the f Welcome Home ! ' on 
the Barbican, Plymouth. Simon, that is to say Rhodojani, 
was in love with Lucy Railton, and his conduct, says 
she, was strange before leaving ; but he pretended to be 


94 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


John Rail ton’s friend, and, from what you say, must 
have had an astonishing influence over the unhappy 
man. Simon, we learn, is a scholar,” pursued my uncle, 
after again consulting the letter, “ and I see the word 
( office ’ here, which makes it likely that he was a 
clerk of some kind, who took to the sea for some pur- 
pose of his own, and induced Rail ton to go wilh him, 
perhaps for the same purpose, perhaps for another. 
Anyhow, it seems it was high time for Railton to 
go somewhere, for besides the references to liquor, 
which tally with Simon’s words upon Dead Man’s 
Rock, we also meet with the ominous words ‘ the 
fuss,’ wherein, Jasper, I find the definite article not 
without meaning.” 

Uncle Loveday was beaming with conscious pride in 
his own powers of penetration. He acknowledged my 
admiring attention with a modest wave of the hand, and 
then proceeded to clear his throat ostentatiously, as one 
about to play a trump card. 

“ As I say, Jasper, this fellow must have had some 
purpose to drag him off to sea from an office stool — 
some strong purpose, and, from what we know of the 
man, some ungodly purpose. Now, the question is, 
What was it ? On the Rock, as you say, he charged 
John Railton with having a certain Will in his posses- 
sion. Your father started from England with a Will in 
his possession. This is curious, to say the least — very 
curious ; but I do not see how we are to connect this 
with the man Simon’s sudden taste for the sea, for. 


ACUTENESS OF MY UNCLE. 


95 


you know, he could not possibly have heard of Amos 
Trenoweth’s Will.” 

u You and aunt were the only people father told 
of it.” 

“ Quite so ; and your father (excuse me, Jasper) not 
being a born fool, naturally didn’t cry his purpose 
about the streets of Plymouth when he took his passage. 
Still, it’s curious. Your father sailed from Plymouth 
and this pair of rascals sailed from Plymouth — not that 
there’s anything in that ; hundreds sail out of the Sound 
every week, and we have nothing to show when Simon 
and John started — it may have been before your father. 
But look here, Jasper, what do you make of that ? ” 

I bent over the letter, and where my uncle’s finger 
pointed, read, “ He says as you have Done Well to be 
. . . Waver 

“ Well, uncle ? ” 

“ Well, my boy ; what do you make of it ? ” 

“ I can make nothing of it.” 

“ No? You see that solitary word e Wave * ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ What was the ship called in which your father 
sailed?” 

a The Golden Waver 

“ That’s it, the Golden Wave. Now, what do you 
make of it ? ” 

My uncle leaned back in his chair and looked at me 
over his spectacles, with the air of one who has played 
his trump card and watches for its effect. A certain 


96 


DEAD MAN’S ROOK. 


consciousness of merit and expectancy of approbation 
animated bis person ; bis reasoning staggered me, and 
be saw it, nor was wholly displeased. After waiting 
some time for my reply, be added — 

“Of course I may be wrong, but it’s curious. I 
do not tbink I am wrong, when I mark what it proves. 
It proves, first, that these two ruffians — for ruffians 
they both were, as we must conclude, in spite of 
J obn Railton’s melancholy end — it proves, I say, 
that these two sailed along with your father. They 
come home with him, are wrecked, and your father’s 
body is found — murdered. Evidence, slight evidence, 
but still worthy of attention, points to them. Now, if 
it could be proved that they knew, at starting or before, 
of your father’s purpose, it would help us ; and, to my 
mind, this letter goes far to prove that wickedness of 
some sort was the cause of their going. What do you 
think ? ” 

Uncle Loveday cleared his throat and looked at me 
again with professional pride in his diagnosis. There 
was a pause, broken only by Mrs. Busvargus splashing 
in the back kitchen. 

“ Good heavens 1 ” said my uncle, “ is that woman 
taking headers ? Come, Jasper, what do you think ? ” 

“ I think,” I replied, “ we had better look at the tin 
box.” 

“ Bless my soul ! There’s something in the boy, 
after all. I had clean forgotten it.” 

The box was about six inches by four, and some 


MY FATHER* S HANDWRITING. 


97 


four inches in depth. The tin was tarnished by the sea, 
hut the cover had been tightly fastened down and 
secured with a hasp and pin. Uncle Loveday drew out 
the pin, and with some difficulty raised the lid. Inside 
lay a tightly-rolled bundle of papers, seemingly un- 
injured. These he drew out, smoothed, and carefully 
opened. 

As his eyes met the writing, his hand dropped, and 
he sank back — a very picture of amazement — in his 
chair. 

“My God ! ” 

“ What's the matter ? " 

“ It's your father's handwriting ! " 

I looked at this last witness cast up by the sea and 
read, “ The Journal of Ezekiel Trenoweth, of Lantrig.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

CONTAINS THE FIRST PART OF MY FATHER^ JOURNAL \ 
SETTING FORTH HIS MEETING WITH MR. ELI HU 
SANDERSON, OF BOMBAY; AND MY GRANDFATHER’S 
MANUSCRIPT. 

It was indeed my father’s Journal, thus miraculously 
preserved to us from the sea. As we sat and gazed at 
this inanimate witness, I doubt not the same awe of 
an all-seeing Providence possessed the hearts of both of 
us. Little more than twenty-four hours ago had my 
dead father crossed the threshold of his home, and now 
his voice had come from the silence of another world to 
declare the mystery of his death. It was some minutes 
before Uncle Loveday could so far control his speech as 
to read aloud this precious manuscript. And thus, in 
my father’s simple language, embellished with no art, 
and tricked out in no niceties of expression, the sur- 
prising story ran : — 

“May 23rd, 1848. — Having, in obedience to the 
instructions of my father's Will, waited upon Mr. Elihu 
Sanderson, of the East India Company's Service, in 
their chief office at Bombay, and having from him re- 
ceived a somewhat singular communication in my 
father's handwriting, I have thought fit briefly to put 


THE JOURNAL. 


99 


together some record of the same, as well as of the more 
important events of my voyage, not only to refresh my 
own memory hereafter, if I am spared to end my days 
in peace at Lantrig, but also being impelled thereto by 
certain strange hints conveyed in this same communica- 
tion. These hints, though I myself can see no ground 
for them, would seem to point towards some grave 
bodily or spiritual peril ; and therefore it is my plain 
duty, seeing that I leave a beloved wife and young son 
at home, to make such provision that, in case of mis- 
adventure or disaster, Divine Providence may at least 
have at my hands some means whereby to inform them 
of my fate. For this reason I regret the want of fore- 
sight which prevented my beginning some such record 
at the outset ; but as far as I can reasonably judge, my 
voyage has hitherto been prosperous and without event. 
Nevertheless, I will shortly set down what I can re- 
member as worthy of remark before I landed at this 
city of Bombay, and trust that nothing of importance 
has slipped my notice. 

“On the 3rd of February last I left my home at Lan- 
trig, travelling by coach to Plymouth, where I slept at 
the ‘ One and All 9 in Old Town Street, being attracted 
thither by the name, which is our Cornish motto. The 
following day I took passage for Bombay in the Golden 
Wave , East Indiaman, Captain Jack Carey, which, as I 
learnt, was due to sail in two days. It had been my 
intention, had no suitable vessel been found at Ply- 
mouth, to proceed to Bristol, where the trade is much 

H 2 


100 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


greater; but on the Barbican — a most jvil-smelling 
neighbourhood — it was my luck to fall in with a very 
entertaining stranger, who, on hearing my case, imme- 
diately declared it to be a most fortunate meeting, as 
he himself had been making inquiries to the same pur- 
pose, and had found a ship which would start almost 
immediately. He had been, it appeared, a lawyer's 
clerk, but on the death of his old employer (whose name 
escapes my memory), finding his successor a man of 
difficult temper, and having saved sufficient money to 
be idle for a year or two, had conceived the wish to 
travel, and chosen Bombay, partly from a desire to 
behold the wonders of the Indies, and partly to see his 
brother, who held a post there in the East India Com- 
pany's service. Having at the time much leisure, he 
kindly offered to show me the vessel, protesting that 
should I find it to my taste he was anxious for the sake 
of the company to secure a passage for himself. So 
very agreeable was his conversation that I embraced the 
opportunity which fortune thus threw in my way. The 
ship, on inspection, proved much to our liking, and 
Captain Carey of so honest a countenance, that the 
bargain was struck without more ado. I was for re- 
turning to the 'One and All,' but first thought it 
right to acquaint myself with the name of this new 
friend. He was called Simon Colliver, and lived, as he 
told me, in Stoke, whither he had to go to make pre- 
paration for this somewhat hasty departure, but first 
advised me to move my luggage from the 'One and 


AT THE ee WELCOME HOME." 101 

All 9 (the comfort of which fell indeed short of the 
promise of so fair a name) to the ‘ Welcome Home/ 
a small hut orderly house of entertainment in the 
Barbican, where, he said, I should be within easy dis- 
tance of the Golden Wave. The walk to Old Town 
Street was not far in itself, but a good step when 
traversed five or six times a day ; and, moreover, I was 
led to make the change on hearing that the landlord 
of the ‘Welcome Home' was also intending to sail 
as seaman in this same ship. My new acquaintance led 
me to the house, an ill-favoured-looking den, but clean 
inside, and after a short consultation with J ohn Rail ton, 
the landlord, arranged for my entertainment until the 
Golden Wave should weigh anchor. This done, and a 
friendly glass taken to seal the engagement, he de- 
parted, congratulating himself warmly on his good 
fortune in finding a fellow-traveller so much, as he 
protested, to his taste. 

“I must own I was not over-pleased with John 
Railton, who seemed a sulky sort of man, and too much 
given to liquor. But I saw little of him after he 
brought my box from the ‘One and All/ His wife 
waited upon me — a singularly sweet woman, though 
sorely vexed, as I could perceive, with her husband's 
infirmity. She loved him nevertheless, as a woman will 
sometimes love a brute, and was sorry to lose him. 
Indeed, when I noticed that evening that her eyes were 
red with weeping, and said a word about her husband's 
departure, she stared at me for a moment in amazement, 


102 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


and could not guess how I came to hear of it, ( h >r, s 
said she, * the resolution had been so suddenly taken that 
even she could scarce account for it.' She admitted, 
however, that it was for the best, and added that f Jack 
was a good seaman, and she always expected that he 
would leave her some day.' Her chief anxiety was for 
her little daughter, aged seven, whom it was hard to 
have exposed to the rough language and manners of a 
public-house. I comforted her as best I could, and 
doubt not she has found her husband s absence a less 
misfortune than she anticipated. 

“The Golden Wave weighed anchor on the 6th of 
February, and reached Bombay after a tedious voyage of 
103 days, on the 21st of May, having been detained by 
contrary winds in doubling the Cape. I saw little of 
Simon Colliver before starting, though he came twice, 
as I heard, to the 6 Welcome Home' to inquire for 
me, and each time found me absent. On board, how- 
ever, being the only other passenger, I was naturally 
thrown much into his society, and confess that I found 
him a most diverting companion. Often of a clear 
moonlight night would we pace the deck together, or 
watch in a darker sky the innumerable stars, on which 
Colliver had an amazing amount of information. Some- 
times, too, he would sing — quaint songs which I had 
never heard before, to airs which I suspect, without 
well knowing why, were of his own composition. His 
voice was of large compass — a silvery tenor of sur- 
passing purity and sweetness, inasmuch as I have seen 


SIMON COLLI VEIL 


103 


(he sailors stand spellbound, and even with tears in 
their eyes, at some sweet song of love and home. Often, 
again, the words would be weird and mysterious, but 
the voice was always delicious whether he spoke or sang. 
I asked him once why with such a gift he had not tried 
his fortune on the stage. At which he laughed, and 
replied that he could never be bound by rules of art, or 
forced to sing, whatever his humour, to an audience for 
which he cared nothing. I do not know why I dwell 
so long upon this extraordinary man. His path of life 
has chanced to run side by side with my own for a short 
space, and the two have now branched off, nor in all 
likelihood will ever meet again. My life has been a 
quiet one, and has not lain much in the way of extra- 
ordinary men, but I doubt if many such as Simon 
Colliver exist. He is a perfect enigma to me. That 
such a man, with such attainments (for besides his 
wonderful conversation and power of singing, he has 
an amazing knowledge of foreign tongues), that such a 
man, I say, should be a mere attorney's clerk is little 
short of marvellous. But as regards his past he told 
me nothing, though an apt and ready listener when I 
spoke of Lantrig and of Margery and Jasper at home. 
But he showed no curiosity as to the purpose of my 
voyage, and in fact seemed altogether careless as well 
of the fate as of the opinions of his fellow-men. He 
has passed out of my life; but when I shook hands 
with him at parting I left with regret the most fasci- 
nating companion it has been ever my lot to meet. 


104 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“Our voyage, as I have said, was without event, 
though full of wonders to me who had seldom before 
sailed far out of sight of Pedn-glas. But on these I 
need not here dwell. Only I cannot pass without men- 
tion the exceeding marvels of this city of Bombay. As 
I stood upon deck on the evening before last and 
watched the Bhor Ghauts (as they are called) rise 
gradually on the dim horizon, whilst the long ridge 
of the Malabar Hill with its clustered lights grew 
swiftly dyed in delicate pink and gold, and as swiftly 
sank back into night, I confess that my heart was 
strangely fluttered to think that the wonders of this 
strange country lay at my feet, and I slept but badly 
for the excitement. But when, yesterday morning, I 
disembarked upon the Apollo Bund, I knew not at first 
whither to turn for very dismay. It was like the 
play-acting we saw, my dear Margery, one Christmas 
at Plymouth. Every sight in the strange crowd was 
unfamiliar to my Cornish eyes, and I felt sorely tempted 
to laugh when I thought what a figure some of them 
would cut in Polkimbra, and not less when I reflected 
that after all I was just as much out of place in Bom- 
bay, though of course less noticed because of the great 
traffic. As I strolled through the Bazaar, Hindoos, 
Europeans, Jews, Arabs, Malays, and Negro men passed 
me by. Mr. Elihu Sanderson has kindly taught me to 
distinguish some of these nations, but at the time I did 
not know one from another, fancying them indeed all 
Indians, though at a loss to account for their diversity. 


IN BOMBAY. 


105 


Also the gaudy houses of red, blue, and yellow, the 
number of beautiful trees that grew in the very streets, 
and the swarms of birds that crowded every roof-top and 
ventured down quite fearlessly among the passers-by, 
all made me gasp with wonder. Nor was I less amazed 
to watch the habits of this marvellous folk, many of 
them to me shocking, and to see the cows that abound 
everywhere and do the work of horses. But of all this 
I will tell if Heaven be pleased to grant me a safe 
return to Lantrig. Let me now recount my business 
with Mr. Elihu Sanderson. 

“ I said farewell to the captain of the Golden Wave 
and my friend Colliver upon the quay, meaning to ask 
Mr. Sanderson to recommend a good lodging for the 
short time I intended to stay in Bombay. Captain 
Carey had already directed me to the East India Com- 
pany's office, and hither I tried to make my way at 
once. Easy as it was, however, I missed it, being lost 
in admiration of the crowd. When at last I arrived at 
the doors I was surprised to see Colliver coming out, 
until I remembered that his brother was in the Com- 
pany's employ. It seems, however, that he had been 
transferred to Trichinopoly some months before, and my 
friend's labour was in vain. I am bound to say that he 
took his disappointment with great good-humour, and 
made very merry over our meeting again so soon, pro- 
testing that for the future we had better hunt in couples 
among this outlandish folk ; and so I lost him again. 

“ After some difficulty and delay I found myself at 


106 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


length in the presence of this Mr. Elihu Sanderson, on 
whom I had speculated so often. I was ushered by a 
clerk into his private office, and as he rose to meet me, 
judged him directly to be the son of the Elihu Sanderson 
mentioned in my father's Will — as indeed is the case. 
A spare, dry, shrivelled man, with a mouth full of 
determination and acuteness, and a habit of measuring 
his words as though they were for sale, he is in every- 
thing but height the essence of every Scotchman I 
remember to have seen. 

“ * Good day/ said he, * Mr. I fancy I did not 

catch your name/ 

“ ‘ Trenoweth/ said I. 

“ ‘ Indeed ! Trenoweth ! 9 he repeated, and I fancy I 
saw a glimmer of surprise in his eyes. ‘ Do I guess 
your business ? ' 

Maybe you do/ I replied, 'for I take it to be 
somewhat unusual/ 

“ ‘ Ah, yes ; just so ; somewhat unusual ! ' — and he 
chuckled drily — ■ somewhat unusual ! Very good in- 
deed ! I suppose — eh ? — you have some credentials — 
some proof that you really are called Trenoweth ? ’ — 
Here Mr. Sanderson looked at me sharply. 

“ In reply I produced my father’s Will and the little 
Bible from my jersey’s side. As I did so, I felt the 
Scotchman's eyes examining me narrowly. I handed 
him the packet. The Will he read with great atten- 
tion, glanced at the Bible, pondered awhile, and then 
said — 


MU. ELIHU SANDERSON. 


107 


“ * I suppose you guess that this was a piece of 
private business between Amos Trenoweth, deceased, 
and my father, also deceased. I tell ye frankly, Mr. 
Trenoweth — by the way, what is your Christian name, 
eh? So you are the Ezekiel mentioned in the Will? 
Are you a bold man, eh ? Well, you look it, at any 
rate. As I was saying, I tell ye frankly it is not the 
sort of business I would have undertaken myself. But 
my father had his crotchets — which is odd, as Fm sup- 
posed to resemble him — he had his crotchets, and among 
them was an affection for your father. It may have 
been based on profit, for your father, Mr. Trenoweth, as 
far as I have heard, was not exactly a lovable man, if 
ye*ll excuse me. If it was, Fve never seen those profits, 
and Fve examined my father’s papers pretty thoroughly. 
But this is a family matter, and had better not be dis- 
cussed in office hours. Can you dine with me this 
evening ? 3 

“ I replied that I should be greatly obliged ; but, in 
the first place, as a stranger, would count it a favour to 
be told of some decent lodging for such time as I should 
be detained in Bombay. 

“Mr. Sanderson pondered again, tapped the floor 
with his foot, pulled his short crop of sandy whiskers, 
and said — 

“ ‘ Our business may detain us, for aught I know, 
long into the night, Mr. Trenoweth. Ye would be 
doing me a favour if ye stayed with me for a day 
or two. I am a bachelor, and live as one. So much 


108 


DEAD MAN’S HOCK. 


the better, eh ? If you will get your boxes sent up to 
Craigie Cottage, Malabar Hill — any one will tell ye 
where Elihu Sanderson lives — I will try to make you 
comfortable. You are wondering at the name “ Craigie 
Cottage” — another crotchet of my father’s. He was a 
Scotchman, I'd have ye know ; and so am I, for that 
matter, though I never saw Scotch soil, being that pro- 
digious phenomenon, a British child successfully reared 
in India. But I hope to set foot there some day, please 
God ! Save us ! how I am talking, and in office hours, 
too! Good-bye, Mr. Trenoweth, and’— once more his 
eyes twinkled as I thanked him and made for the door 
— ‘ I would to Heaven ye were a Scotchman ! ’ 

“ Although verily broiled with the heat, I spent the 
rest of the day in sauntering about the city and drink- 
ing in its marvels until the time when I was due to 
present myself at Craigie Cottage. Following the men 
who carried my box, I discovered it without difficulty, 
though very unlike any cottage that came within my 
recollection. Indeed, it is a large villa, most richly 
furnished, and crowded with such numbers of black 
servants, that it must go hard with them to find enough 
to do. That, however, is none of my business, and Mr. 
Sanderson does not seem the man to spend his money 
wastefully ; so I suppose wages to be very low here. 

“ Mr. Sanderson received me hospitably, and enter- 
tained me to a most agreeable meal, though the dishes 
were somewhat hotly seasoned, and the number of ser- 
vants again gave me some uneasiness. But when, after 


AT CRAIGIE COTTAGE. 


109 


dinner, we sat and smoked out on the balcony and 
watched the still gardens, the glimmering houses and, 
above all, the noble bay sleeping beneath the gentle 
shadow of the night, I confess to a feeling that, after 
all, man is at home wherever Nature smiles so kindly. 
The hush of the hour was upon me, and made me dis- 
inclined to speak lest its spell should be broken — dis- 
inclined to do anything but watch the smoke-wreaths as 
they floated out upon the tranquil air. 

“ Mr. Sanderson broke the silence. 
ttf You have not been long in coming/ 

“ ‘ Did you not expect me so soon ? * 

€t ‘ Why, you see, I had not read your father's Will/ 
“ I explained to him as briefly as I could the reasons 
which drove me to leave Lantrig. He listened in 
silence, and then said, after a pause — 

“ ‘ You have not, then, undertaken this lightly ? ' 

“ ‘ As Heaven is my witness, no, whether there be 
anything in this business or not/ 

“ ‘ I think/ said he, slowly, e there is something in 
it. My father had his crotchets, it is true ; but he was 
no fool. He never opened his lips to me on the matter, 
but left me to hear the first of it in his last Will and 
Testament. Oddly enough, our fathers seem both to 
have found religion in their old age. Mine took his 
comfort in the Presbyterian shape. But it is all the 
same. There was some reason for your father to 
repent, if rumours were true ; but why mine, a respect- 
able servant of the East India Company, should want 


no 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


consolation, is not so clear. Maybe 'twas ojily another 
form of egotism. Religion, even, is spelt with an I, 
ye'll observe. 

“ ‘ An odd couple/ he continued, musing, f to be 
mixed up together ! But we'll let them rest in peace. 
I'd better let you have what was entrusted to me, and 
then, mayhap, ye'll be better able to form an opinion/ 

“ With this he rose and stepped back into the lighted 
room, whilst I followed. Drawing a bunch of keys 
from his pocket, he opened a heavy chest of some dark 
wood, intricately carved, which stood in one corner, 
drew out one by one a whole pile of tin boxes, bundles 
of papers and heavy books, until, almost at the very 
bottom of the chest, he seemed to find the box he 
wanted ; then, carefully replacing the rest, closed and 
fastened the chest, and, after some search among his 
keys, opened the tin box and handed me two envelopes, 
one much larger than the other, but both bulky. 

“ And here, my dear Margery, with my hand upon 
the secret which had cost us so much anxious thought 
and such a grievous parting, I could not help breathing 
to myself a prayer that Heaven had seen fit to grant 
me at last some means of comforting my wife and little 
one and restoring our fallen house; nor do I doubt, 
dear wife, you were at that moment praying on your 
knees for me. I did not speak aloud, but Mr. Sander- 
son must have divined my thoughts, for I fancied I heard 
him utter f Amen' beneath his breath, and when I looked 
up he seemed prodigiously red and ashamed of himself. 


TWO ENVELOPES. 


Ill 


“ The small envelope was without address, and con- 
tained £50 in Bank of England notes. These were 
enclosed without letter or hint as to their purpose, and 
sealed with a plain black seal. 

“ The larger envelope was addressed in my father's 
handwriting — 

f To the Son of my House who, having 

COUNTED ALL THE PERILS, IS RESOLUTE. 

* Mem . — To be burned in one hundred years from this date, 
May 4 th, in the year of our Lord MDCCCV 

“ It likewise was sealed with a plain black seal, and 
contained the manuscript which I herewith pin to this 
leaf of my Journal." 

[Here Uncle Loveday, who had hitherto read with- 
out comment, save an occasional interjection, turned 
the page and revealed, in faded ink on a large sheet of 
parchment, the veritable writing of my grandfather, 
Amos Trenoweth. We both unconsciously leaned 
further forward over the relic, and my uncle, still with- 
out comment, proceeded to read aloud as follows : — ] 

“ From Amos Trenoweth , of Lantrig, in the Parish of Pol - 
“ Icimbra and County of Cornwall ; to such descendant of mine 
“ as may inherit my wealth. 

“ Be it Tcnown to you, my son, that though in this parch- 
“ ment mention is made of great and surpassing Wealth, seem - 
U inglybut to be won for the ashing, yet beyond doubt the dangers 
“ which beset him who would lay his hand upon this accursed 
“ store are in nature so deadly, that almost am I resolved to 
“ fling the Secret from me, and so go to my Grave a Beggar . 
“ Fyr that I not only believe, but am well assured, that not with- 


112 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 

“ out much Spilling of Blood and Loss of Human Life shall 
“ they be enjoyed , I myself having looked in the Face of Death 
“ thrice before ever I might set Hand upon them, escaping each 
“time by a Miracle and by forfeit of my Soul’s Peace. Yet , 
“ considering that the Anger of Heaven is quick and not re - 
“ vengeful unduly, I have determined not to do so wholly, but 
“ in part, abandoning myself the Treasure unrighteously won, 
“ if perchance the Curse may so be appeased, but committing it to 
“ the enterprise of another, who may escape, and so raise afalU 
“ing House. 

“ You then, my Son who may read this Message, I entreat 
“to consider well the Perils of your Course, though to you 
“ unknown. But to me they are known well, who have lived a 
“ Sinful Life for the sake of this gain, and now find it but as 
“ the fruit of Gomorrah to my lips. For the rest , my Secret is 
“with God, from whom I humbly hope to obtain Pardon, but 
“ not yet. And even as the Building of the Temple was with - 
“ held from David, as being a Shedder of Blood, but not from 
“ Solomon his son, so may you lay your Hand to much Treasure 
“in Gold, Silver, and Precious Stones, but chiefly the Great 
“ Ruby of Ceylon, whose beauty excels all the jewels of the 
“ Earth, I myself having looked upon it, and knowing it to be, as 
“ an Ancient Writer saith, ‘ a Spectacle Glorious and without 
“ Compare* 

“ Of this Ruby the Traveller Marco Polo speaks, saying, * The 
“ King of Seilan hath a Ruby the Greatest and most Beautiful 
“ that ever was or can be in the World. In length it is a palm, 
“and in thickness the thickness of a man’s arm. In Splen- 
“ dour it exceedeth the things of Earth, and gloweth like unto 
“ Fire. Money cannot purchase it/ Likewise Maundevile tells 
“ of it, and how the Great Khan would have it, but was refused ; 
“ and so Odoric, the two giving various Sizes, and both placing 
“ it falsely in the Island of Nacumera or Nicoveran. But this 
“ I know, that in the Island of Ceylon it was found, being lost 
“for many Centuries, and though less in size than these Writers 
“ would have it, yet far exceeding all imagination for Beauty 
“ and colour. 

“ Now this Ruby, together with much Treasure beside, you 
* may gain with the Grace of Heaven and by following my 


THE MS. 


113 


" plain t oords. You will go from this place unto the Island of 
“ Ceylon, and there proceed to Samanala or Adam’s Peak, the 
“ same being the most notable mountain of the Island. From 
“ the Resting House at the foot of the Peak you will then ascend , 
“following the track of the Pilgrims, until you have passed the 
“ First Set of Chains. Between these and the Second there lies 
“ a stretch of Forest, in which, still following the track, you will 
“ come to a Tree, the trunk of which branches into seven parts 
“and again unites. This Tree is noticeable and cannot be 
“ missed. From its base you must proceed at a right angle to 
“ the left-hand edge of the track for thirty-two paces, and you 
“ will come to a Stone shaped like a Man's Head, of great size , 
“ but easily moved. Beneath this Stone lies the Secret of the 
“ Great Ruby ; and yet not all, for the rest is graven on the 
“ Key, of which mention shall already have been made to you. 

“ These precautions I have taken that none may surprise 
“ this Secret but its right possessor ; and also that none may 
“ without due reflection undertake this task, inasmuch as it is 
“prophesied that ‘ Even as the Heart of the Ruby is Blood and 
“ its Eyes a Flaming Fire, so shall it be for them that would 
‘possess it : Fire shall be their portion and Blood their inherit - 
“ ance for ever.* 

“ This prophecy I had from an aged priest, whose bones lie 
“ beneath the Stone, and upon whose Sacred clasp is the Secret 
written. This and all else may God pardon. Amen. 

“A. T .” 

u He visiteth the iniquity of the Fathers upon the Children 
“ unto the third and fourth 
“ generation.” 

[To this extraordinary document was appended a 
note in another handwriting.] 

“ There is little doubt that the Ruby now in the possession of 
“ Mr. Amos Trenoweth is the veritable Great Ruby of which the 
** traveller Marco Polo speaks. But, however this may be, I 
“ know from the testimony of my own eyes that the stone is of 
“inestimable worth, being of the rarest colour , and in size 


l 


114 


DEAD MAN'S HOCK. 


* greatly beyond any Ruby that ever I sate. The stone is spoken 
“ of, in addition to such writers as Mr. Trenoweth quotes , by 
“ Friar Jordanus (in the fourteenth century ), who mentions it 
“ as * so large that it cannot be grasped in the closed hand * ; and 
“ Ibn Batuta reckons it as great as the palm of a man’s hand. 
“ Cosmas , as far back as 550 , had heard tell of it from Sopater, 
“and' its fame extended to the sixteenth century, wherein Corsali 
“ wrote of ‘ two rubies so lustrous and shining that they seem a 
“ flame of fire .’ Also Hayton , in the thirteenth century , men - 
u tions it, telling much the same story as Sir John Maundevile, 
“ to the effect that it was the especial symbol of sovereignty, and 
“ when held in the hand of the newly -chosen king, enforced the 
“ recognition of his majesty. But, whereas Hayton simply calls 
“ it the greatest and finest Ruby in existence, Maundevile puts it 
“at afoot in length and five fingers in girth. Also — for I have 
“ made much inquiry concerning this stone — it was well known 
“to the Chinese from the days of Hwen T’sang downward. 

“ Mr. Trenoweth has wisely forborne for safety from show - 
“ ing it to any of the jewellers here ; but on the one occasion 
“ when I saw the gem I measured it, and found it to be, roughly, 
“ some 3 | inches square and 2 inches in depth ; of its weight 1 
“cannot speak. But that it truly is the Great Ruby of Ceylon , 
“ the account of the Buddhist priest from whom Mr. Trenoweth 
“ got the stone puts out of all doubt . t( ^ ^ }> 

“As I finished my reading*, I looked up and saw 
Mr. Sanderson watching me across the table. ' Well ? * 
said he. 

“I pushed the parchment across to him, and filled 
a pipe. He read the whole through very slowly, and 
without the movement of a muscle; then handed it 
back, but said never a word. 

“'Well/ I asked, after a pause; 'what do you 
think of it ? ' 

'' ' Why, in the first place, that my father was a 


ME. SANDERSON HAS DOUBTS. 


115 


marvellously honest man, and yours, Mr. Trenoweth, a 
very indiscreet one. And secondly, that ye're just as 
indiscreet as he, and it will be lucky for ye if I'm as 
honest as my father.' 

“ I laughed. 

“ 1 Aye, ye may laugh ; hut mark my words, Mr. 
Trenoweth. Ye've a trustful way with ye that takes 
my liking; but it would surprise me very much, air, 
did ye ever lay hands on that Ruby.' ** 


CHAPTER IX. 

CONTAINS THE SECOND PART OP MY FATHER'S JOURNAL! 
SETTING FORTH HIS ADVENTURES IN THE ISLAND OF 
CEYLON. 

“ Sept. 29th, 1848. — It is a strange thing that on 
the very next day after reading my father's message I 
should have been struck down and reduced to my present 
condition. But so it is, and now, four months after my 
first entry in this Journal, I am barely able to use the 
pen to add to my account. As far as I remember — for 
my head wanders sadly at times — it happened thus : On 
the 23rd of May last, after spending the greater part 
of the day in writing my Journal, and also my first 
letter to my dear wife, I walked down in the cool of the 
evening to the city, intending to post the latter ; which 
I did, and was returning to Mr. Sanderson's house, 
when I stopped to watch the sun setting in this glorious 
Bay of Bengal. I was leaning over a low wall, looking 
out on the open sea with its palm-fringed shores, when 
suddenly the sun shot out a jagged flame; the sky 
heaved and turned to blood — and I knew no more. I 
had been murderously struck from behind. That I w r as 
found, lying to all appearance dead, with a hideous zig- 
zag wound upon the scalp; that my pockets had been 


AN UNKNOWN HAND. 


117 


to all appearance rifled (whether by the assassin or the 
natives that found me is uncertain) ; that I was finally 
claimed and carried home by Mr. Sanderson., who, grow- 
ing uneasy at my absence, had set out to look for me ; 
that for more than a month, and then again for almost 
two months, my life hung in the balance ; and that I 
owe my recovery to Mr. Sanderson's unceasing kindness 
— all this I have learnt but lately. I can write no 
more at present. 

“ Oct. 3rd. — I am slightly better. My mental 
powers are slowly coming back after the fever that 
followed the wound. I pass my days mostly in specu- 
lating on the reason of this murderous attack, but am 
still unable to account for it. It cannot have been for 
plunder, for I do not look like a rich man. Mr. Sander- 
son has his theory, but I cannot agree with him, for 
nobody but ourselves knew of my father’s manuscript. 
At any rate, it is fortunate that I left it in my chest, 
together with this Journal, before I went down to 
Bombay. Margery must have had my letter by this 
time ; Mr. Sanderson very wisely decided to wait the 
result of my illness before troubling her. As it is she 
need know nothing about it until we meet. 

“Oct. 14th. — Mr. Sanderson is everything that is 
good ; indeed, had I been a brother he could not have 
shown me more solicitude. But he is obstinate in con- 
necting my attack with the Great Ituby of Ceylon ; it 
is certainly a curious coincidence that this dark chapter 
of my life should immediately follow my father's 


118 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


warning*, but that is all one can say. I shall give up 
trying to convince him. 

a Oct. 31st. — I am now considerably better. My 
strength is slowly returning, and with it, I am glad to 
say, my memory. At first it seemed as though I could 
remember nothing of my past life, but now my recol- 
lection is good on every point up to the moment of my 
attack. Since then, for at least the space of three months, 
I can recall nothing. I am able to creep about a little, and 
Mr. Sanderson has taken me for one or two excursions. 
Curiously enough, I thought 1 saw John Railton yester- 
day upon the Apollo Bund. I was probably mistaken, 
but at the time it caused me no surprise that he should 
still be here, since I forgot the interval of three months 
in my memory. If it were really Railton, he has, I 
suppose, found employment of some kind in Bombay ; 
but it seems a cruel shame for him to desert his poor 
wife at home. I, alas ! am doing little better, but God 
knows I am anxious to be gone ; however, Mr. Sander- 
son will not hear a word on the subject at present. He 
has promised to find a ship for me as soon as he thinks 
I am able to continue my travels. 

“Nov. 4th. — I was not mistaken. It was John 
Railton that I saw on the Apollo Bund. I met him 
hovering about the same spot to-day, and spoke to him ; 
but apparently he did not hear me. I intended to ask 
him some news of my friend Colliver, but I daresay he 
knows as little of his doings as I do. Mr. Sanderson 
gays that in a week's time I shall be recovered suf- 


OOLUVER AGAIN. 


119 


ficiently to start. I hope so, indeed, for this delay is 
chafing me sorely. 

“ Noy. 21st. — Mr. Sanderson has found a ship for me 
at last. I am to sail in five days for Colombo in the 
schooner Campaspe, whose captain is a friend — a business 
friend, that is — of my host I shall he the only pas- 
senger, and Mr. Sanderson has given Captain Dodge 
full instructions to take care of me. But I am feeling 
strong enough now, and fit for anything. 

“ Nov. 23rd. — I have been down to look at the 
vessel, and find that a most comfortable little cabin has 
been set apart for me. But the strangest thing is that 
I met Colli ver also inspecting the ship. He was most 
surprised at seeing me, and evidently imagined me home 
in England by this time. I told him of my meeting 
with John Bail ton, and he replied — 

Oh, yes; I have taken him into my service. We 
are going together to Ceylon, as I have travelled about 
India enough for the present. I went to visit my brother 
at Trichinopoly, and have only just returned to Bombay. 
Unfortunately the captain of the Campasjoe declares he 
is unable to take me, so I shall have to wait/ 

“ I explained the reasons of the captain's reluctance, 
and offered him a share of my cabin if Captain 
Dodge would consent to be burdened with Bailton's 
company. 

“ < Oh, for that matter/ replied he, f Bailton can 
follow ; but he's a handy fellow, and I daresay would 
make himself useful without payment/ 


120 


DEAD MAN’S HOCK. 


“ We consulted Captain Dodge, who admitted him- 
self ready to take another passenger, and even to 
accommodate Rail ton, if that were my wish. Only, he 
explained, Mr. Sanderson had especially told him that 
I should wish to be alone, being an invalid. So the 
bargain was struck. 

“ Mr. Sanderson did not seem altogether pleased 
when I informed him that I intended to take a com- 
panion. He asked many questions about Colliver, and 
was especially anxious to know if I had confided any- 
thing of my plans to him. So far was this from being 
the case that Colliver, as I informed my host, had never 
betrayed the least interest in my movements. At this 
Mr. Sanderson merely grunted, and asked me when I 
intended to learn prudence, adding that one crack in 
the head was enough for most men, but he supposed I 
wanted more. I admit that, pleasant companion as 
Colliver is, I should prefer to be entirely alone upon 
this adventure. But I could not deny the invitation 
without appearing unnecessarily rude, and I owe him 
much gratitude for having made the outward voyage 
so plefisant. Besides, we shall part at Colombo. 

tC Nov. 25th. — I make this entry (my last upon 
Indian soil) just before retiring to rest. To-morrow 
I sail for Colombo in the Campaspe. But I cannot 
leave Bombay without dwelling once more on Mr. 
Sanderson’s great kindness. To-night, as we sat to- 
gether for the last time upon the balcony of Craigie 
Cottage, I declare that my heart was too full for words. 


FURTHER DOUBTS OF MR. SANDERSON. 


121 


My host apparently was revolving other thoughts, for 
when he spoke it was to say — 

u * Visited his brother in Trichinopoly, eh ? Only 
just returned, too — h'm! What I want to know is, 
why the devil he returned at all ? There are plenty 
of vessels at Madras/ 

“ f But Colliver is not the man who cares to follow 
the shortest distance between two points/ I answered. 
‘ Why should he not return to Bombay ? * 

“ ‘ I'll beg ye to observe/ said Mr. Sanderson, 
‘ that the question is not “ why shouldn't he ? " hut 
u why should he ? '' 9 

t( ‘ At any rate/ said I, ‘ I'll be on my guard.' 

“ This suspicion on my behalf has become quite a 
mania with my host. I thought it best to let him 
grumble his fill, and then endeavoured to thank him 
for his great kindness. 

“ ( Don't say another word/ he interrupted. c I owe 
ye some reparation for being mixed up in this at all. 
It's a serious matter, mark ye, for a respectable clerk 
like myself to be aiding and abetting in this mad chase ; 
and, to tell the truth, Trenoweth, I took a fancy to 

ye when first I set eyes on your face, and Don't say 

another word. I'll ask ye/ 

(( My friend's eyes were full of tears. I arose, shook 
him silently by the hand, and went to my room. 

“ Nov. 26th. — I am off. I write this in my cabin, 
alone — Colliver having had another assigned to him by 
Mr. Sanderson's express wish. He saw Colliver for the 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


0 


m 

first time to-day on the quay, and drew me aside at tha 
last moment to warn me against ‘ that fellow with the 
devilish eyes/ As I stood on deck and watched his 
stiff little figure waving me farewell until it melted 
into the crowd, and Bombay sank behind me as the city 
of a dream, I wondered with sadness on the little chance 
we had of ever meeting on this earth again. Colliver's 
voice at my elbow aroused me. 

“ ‘ Odd man, that friend of yours — made up of 
emotion, and afraid of his life to show it. Has he done 
you a favour ? 3 

“ ‘ He has/ I replied, ‘ as great a favour as one man 
can do for another/ 

“ ‘ Ah/ said he, ‘ I thought as much. That's why 
he is so full of gratitude/ 

“ Dec. 6th. — Never shall I forget the dawn out of 
which Ceylon, the land of my promise, arose into view. 
I was early on deck to catch the first sight of land. 
Very slowly, as I stood gazing into the east, the pitch- 
black darkness turned to a pale grey, and discovered a 
long, narrow streak, shaped like the shields one sees in 
Bible prints, and rising to a point in the centre. Then, 
as it seemed to me, in a moment, the sun was up and as 
if by magic the shield had changed into a coast fringed 
with palms and swelling upwards in green and gradual 
slopes to a chain of mighty hills. Around these some 
light, fleecy clouds had gathered, but sea and coast 
were radiant with summer. So clear was the air that 
I could distinguish the red sand of the beaches and the 


COLOMBO. 


123 


white trunks of the palms that crowded to the shore ; 
and then before us arose Colombo, its white houses 
gleaming out one by one. 

“ The sun was high by the time our pilot came on 
board, and as we entered the harbour the town lay 
deep in the stillness of the afternoon. We had cast 
anchor, and I was reflecting on my next course of action 
when I heard my name called from under the ship’s side. 
Looking down, I spied a tall, grave gentleman seated in 
a boat. I replied as well as I could for the noise, and 
presently the stranger clambered up on deck and an- 
nounced himself as Mr. Eversleigh, to whom Mr. San- 
derson had recommended me. I had no notion until 
this moment — and I state it in proof of Mr. Sanderson's 
kindness — that any arrangement had been made for 
entertaining me at Colombo. It is true that Mr. San- 
derson had told me, on the night when our acquaintance 
began, to send this gentleman's address to Margery, 
that her letter might safely reach me ; but beyond this 
I knew nothing. Mr. Eversleigh shook me by the 
hand, and, to my unspeakable joy, handed me my dear 
wife's letter. 

“ I say to my unspeakable joy, for no words can 
tell, dear wife, with what feelings I read your letter as 
the little boat carried me up to the quay. How often 
during the idle days of my recovery have I lain wonder- 
ing how you and Jasper were passing this weary time, 
and cried out on the weakness that kept me so long 
dallying. Patience, dear heart, it is but a little time now.. 


% 


124 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ I have forgotten to speak of Colliver. He has been 
as delightful and indifferent as ever throughout the 
voyage. Certainly I can find no reason for crediting 
Mr. Sanderson's suspicions. In the hurry of landing I 
missed him, not even having opportunity to ask about 
his plans. Doubtless I shall see him in a day or two. 

“ Dec. 10th. — What an entrancing country is this 
Ceylon ! The monsoon is upon us, and hinders my 
journey : indeed, Mr. Eversleigh advises me not to start 
for some weeks. He promises to accompany me to the 
Peak if I can wait, but the suspense is hard to bear. 
Meantime I am drinking in the marvels of Colombo. 
The quaint names over the shops, the bright dresses of 
white and red, the priests with their robes of flaming 
yellow — all these are diverting enough, but words cannot 
tell of the beauty of the country here. The roads are all 
of some strange red soil, and run for miles beneath the 
most beautiful trees imaginable — bamboos, palms, and 
others unknown to me, but covered with crimson and 
yellow blossom. Then the long stretches of rice fields, 
and again more avenues of palms, with here and there a 
lovely pool by the wayside — all this I cannot here describe. 
But most wonderful of all is the monsoon which rages 
over the country, wrapping the earth sometimes in sheets 
of lightning which turn sea, sky and earth to one vivid 
world of flame. The wind is dry and parching, so that 
all windows are kept carefully closed at night; but, 
indeed, the mosquitoes are sufficient excuse for that. I 
have seen nothing of Colliver and Railton. 


IN CEYLON. 


125 


“ Dec. 31st. — New Year's Eve, and, as I hope, the 
dawn of brighter days for us, dear wife. Mr. Evers- 
leigh has to-night been describing Adam’s Peak to me. 
Truly this is a most marvellous mountain, and its effect 
upon me I find hard to put into words. To-day I 
watched it standing solitary and royal from the low 
hills that surround it. At its feet waved a very sea of 
green forest, around its summit were gathered black 
clouds charged with lightning. Mr. Eversleigh tells 
me of the worship here paid to it, and the thousands of 
pilgrims that wear its crags with their patient feet. 
Can I hope to succeed when so many with prayers so 
much more holy have failed ? Even as I write, its un- 
moved face is mocking the fire of heaven. I dream of 
the mountain ; night and day it has come to fill my life 
with dark terror. I am not by nature timid or des- 
pondent, but it is hard to have to wait here day after 
day and watch this goal of my hopes — so near, yet 
seemingly so forbidding of access. 

“ On looking back I find I have said nothing about 
the house where I am now staying. It lies in the 
Kolpetty suburb, in the midst of most lovely gardens, 
and is called Blue Bungalow, from the colour in which 
it is painted. I have made many excursions with Mr. 
Eversleigh on the lagoon ; but for me the only object 
in this land of beauty is the great Peak. I cannot 
endure this idleness much longer. Colliver seems to 
have vanished : at least, I have not seen him. 

“ Jan. 25th, 1849. — I have been in no mood lately 


126 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


bo make any fresh entry in my J ournal. But to-morrow 
I start for Adam's Peak. At the last moment my host 
tinds himself unable to go with me, much as he protests 
he desires it ; but two of his servants will act as my 
guides. It is about sixty miles from Colombo to the 
foot of the Peak, so that in four days from this time I 
hope to lay my hand upon the secret. The two natives 
(their real names I do not know, but Mr. Eversleigh 
has christened them Peter and Paul, which I shall 
doubtless find more easy of mastery than their true 
outlandish titles) are, as I am assured, trusty, and have 
visited the mountain before. We take little baggage 
beyond the necessary food and one of my host's guns. 
I cannot tell how impatient I am feeling. 

(< Feb. 1st. — My journey to the Peak is over. 
Whether from fatigue or excitement I am feeling 
strangely light-headed to-day ; but let me attempt to 
describe as briefly as I can my adventure. We set out 
from Colombo in the early morning of Jan. 26th. For 
about two -thirds of our journey the road lies along the 
coast, stretching through swampy rice-fields and inter- 
minable coco&nut avenues until Ratnapoora is reached. 
So far the scenery does not greatly differ from that of 
Colombo. But it was after we left Ratnapoora that I 
first realised the true wonders of this land. Our road 
rose almost continuously by narrow tracks, which in 
some places, owing to the late heavy rams, were almost 
impassable; but Peter and Paul worked haid, and so 
reduced the delay. We had not left Rainap^ora far 


THROUGH THE HILL-COUNTRY. 


127 


behind when we plunged into a tangled forest, so dense 
as almost to blot out the light of day. On either hand 
deep ravines plunged precipitately down, or giant trees 
enclosed us in black shadow. Where the sun’s rays 
penetrated, myriads of brilliant insects flashed like 
jewels; yellow butterflies, beetles with wings of ruby- 
red or gold, and dragonflies that picked out the under- 
growth with fire. In the shadow overhead flew and 
chattered crowds of green paroquets and glossy crows, 
while here and there we could see a Bird of Paradise 
drooping its smart tail-feathers amid the foliage. A 
little further, and deep in the forest the ear caught the 
busy tap-tap of the woodpecker, the snap of the toucan’s 
beak, or far away the deep trumpeting of the elephant. 
Once we startled a leopard that gazed a moment at us 
with flaming eyes, and then was gone with a wild bound 
into the thicket. From tree to tree trailed hosts of 
gorgeous creepers, blossoming in orange, white and 
crimson, or wreathing round some hapless monarch of 
the forest and strangling it with their rank growth. 
Still we climbed. 

“ The bridle-track now skirted a torrent, now 
wound dizzily round the edge of a stupendous cliff, 
and again plunged into obscurity. Here and there the 
ruins of some ancient and abandoned shrine confronted 
us, its graceful columns entwined and matted with 
vegetation ; or, again, where the forest broke off and 
allowed our eyes to sweep over the far prospect, the 
guides would point to the place where stood, hardly to 


128 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


be descried, the relics of some dead city, desolate and 
shrined in desolation. Even I, who knew nothing of 
the past glories of Ceylon, could not help being possessed 
with melancholy thoughts as I passed now a mass of 
deserted masonry, now a broken column, the sole wit- 
nesses of generations gone for ever. Some were very 
richly carved, but Nature’s tracery was rapidly blotting 
out the handiwork of man, the twining convolvulus 
usurping the glories of the patient chisel. Still up we 
climbed, where hosts of chattering monkeys swung from 
branch to branch, or poised screaming overhead, or a 
frightened serpent rose with hissing mouth, and then 
glided in a flash back through the undergrowth. One, 
that seemed to me of a pure silver-white, started almost 
from under my feet, and darted away before I could 
recover myself. We hardly spoke; the vastness of 
Nature hushed our tongues. It seemed presumption 
to raise my gun against any of the inhabitants of this 
spot where man seemed so mean, so strangely out of 
place. Once I paused to cut back with my knife the 
creepers that hid in inextricable tangle a solitary and 
exquisitely carved archway. But the archway led no- 
where, its god and temple alike had perished, and 
already the plants have begun their tireless work again. 

“ Between the stretches of wilderness our road often 
led us across rushing streams, difficult to ford at this 
season, or up rocky ravines, that shut in with their 
towering walls all but a patch of blue overhead. Emerg- 
ing from these we would find ourselves on naked ledges 


ON THE ROAD. 


129 


where the sun's rays beat until the air seemed that of 
an oven. At such spots the plain below spread itself 
out as a crumpled chart, whilst always above us, domed 
in the blue of a sapphire-stone, towered the goal of our 
hopes, serene and relentless. But such places were not 
many. More often a threatening cliff faced us, or an 
endless slope closed in the view, only to give way to 
another and yet another as we climbed their weary 
length. 

“ Yet our speed was not trifling. We had passed a 
train of white-clothed pilgrims in the morning soon 
after leaving Ratnapoora. Since then we had seen no 
man except one poor old priest at the ruined resting- 
house where we ate our mid-day meal. The shadow of 
the forest allowed us to travel through the heat of the 
day, and the thirst of discovery would have hurried me 
on even had the guides protested. But they were both 
sturdy, well-built men, and suffered from the heat far 
less than I did. So we hardly paused until, in the first 
swift gloom of sunset, we emerged on the grassy lawn 
of Diabetne, beneath the very face of the cone. 

"We had to rest for the night in the ruined 
Ambulam , as it is called; and here, thoroughly tired 
but sleepless, I lay for some hours and watched the 
innumerable stars creep out and crown that sublime head 
which rose at first into a fathomless blue that was 
almost black, and then as the moon swept up, flashed 
into unutterable radiance. Nothing, I am told, can 
compare with the moonlight of Ceylon, and I can 


130 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


well believe it. That night I read clearly once again by 
the light of its rays my father's manuscript, that no 
point in it should escape my memory ; then sank down 
upon my rugs and slept an uneasy sleep. 

“ In an hour or two, as it seemed, I was awakened 
by Peter, who shook me and proclaimed it time to be 
stirring if we meant to see the sunrise from the summit. 
The moon was still resplendent as we started across the 
three miles or f league of heaven 9 that still lay between 
us and the actual cone. This league traversed, we 
plunged down a gully and crossed a stream whose waters 
danced in the silver moonlight until the eyes were 
dazzled, then swept in a pearly shower down numberless 
ledges of rock. After this the climb began in good 
earnest. After a stretch of black forest, we issued on 
a narrow track that grew steeper at every step. The 
moon presently ceased to help us here, so that my 
guides lit torches, which flared and cast long shadows 
on the rocky wall. By degrees the track became a mere 
watercourse, up which we could only scramble one by 
one. So narrow was it that two men could scarcely 
pass, yet so richly clothed in vegetation that our torches 
scorched the overhanging ferns. Peter led the way, and 
I followed close at his heels, for fear of loose stones ; 
but every now and then a crash and a startled cry from 
Paul behind us told us that we had sent a boulder flying 
down into the depths. Beyond this and the noise of 
our footsteps there was no sound. We went but slowly, 
for the labour of the day before had nearly exhausted 


THE ASCENT. 


131 


us, but at length we scrambled out into the moonlight 
again upon a rocky ledge half-way up the mountain- 
side. 

“ Here a strong breeze was blowing, that made our 
heated bodies shiver until we were fain to go on. 
Casting one look into the gulf below, deepened without 
limit in the moonlight, we lit fresh torches and again 
took to the path. Before we had scrambled, now we 
climbed. We had left vegetation behind us, and were 
face to face with the naked rock that forms the actual 
Peak. At the foot of this Peter called a halt, and 
pointed out the first set of chains. Without these, in 
my weak state I could never have attempted the ascent. 
Even as it was, my eye was dazed and my head swam 
and reeled as I hung like a fly upon the dizzy side. But 
clutching with desperation the chains riveted in the 
living rock, I hauled myself up after Peter, and sank 
down thoroughly worn out upon the brink. 

“ It now wanted but little before daybreak would be 
upon us. As I gathered myself up for a last effort, I re- 
membered that amid the growth into which we were now 
to plunge, stood the tree of seven trunks which was to 
be my mark. But my chance was small of noting it by 
the light of these flaring torches that distorted every 
object, and wreathed each tree into a thousand fantastic 
shapes. Plainly I must stake my hopes on the descent 
next day ; at any rate, I would scale the summit before I 
began my search. 

“We had plunged into the thicket of rhododendrons. 


132 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


whose crimson flowers showed oddly against the torches* 
gleam, and I was busy with these thoughts, when 
suddenly my ankle gave way, and I fell heavily forward. 
My two guides were beside me in an instant, and had 
me on my feet again. 

“ * All's good/ said Peter, ‘ but lucky it not happen 
otherwhere. Only take care for last chain. But what 
had with him ? * 

“ He might well ask ; for there, full in front of my 
eyes that strained and doubted, glimmered a huge trunk 
cleft into seven — yes, seven — branches that met again 
and disappeared in a mass of black foliage. It was my 
father's tree. 

“ So far then the parchment had not lied. Here 
was the tree, f noticeable and not to be missed,' and 
barely thirty-two paces from the spot where I was 
standing lay the key to the treasure which I had 
travelled this weary distance to seek. But the time for 
search had not yet come. By the clear light of day and 
alone I must explore the secret. It would keep for a 
few hours longer. 

" Dismissing my pre-occupied manner which had 
caused no small astonishment to Peter and Paul, I fixed 
the position of the tree as firmly as I could in my mind, 
and gave the word to advance. 

<f We then continued in the same order as before, 
whilst, to make matters sure, I counted our steps. I had 
reached six hundred and twenty — though when I con- 
sidered the darkness and the rough path I reflected that 


ON THE SUMMIT. 


133 


this ;vas but little help — when we arrived at the second 
set of chains. My foot was already beginning to give 
me pain, but under any circumstances this would have 
been by far the worst of the ascent. All around us 
stretched darkness void and horrible, leading, for all 
that we could see, down through veils of curling mist 
into illimitable depths. In front the rock was almost 
perpendicular. The fascination of gazing down was 
wellnigb resistless, but Peter ahead continually cried 
‘ Hurry ! 3 and the voice of Paul behind repeated 
‘ Hurry ! 3 so that panting, gasping, and fit to faint, 
with fingers clinging to the chain until the skin was 
blistered, with every nerve throbbing and every muscle 
strained to its utmost tension, I clambered, clambered, 
until with one supreme effort I swung myself up to the 
brink, staggered rather than ran up the last few feet of 
rock, and as my guides bent and with outstretched 
palms raised the cry ‘ Saadoo ! Saadoo ! ’ I fell ex- 
hausted before the very steps of Buddha's shrine. 

“ When I recovered, I saw just above me the open 
shrine perched on a tiny terrace and surrounded by low 
walls of stone ; a yard or two from me the tiny hut in 
which its guardians live ; and all around the expanse of 
sky. Dawn was stealing on; already its pale light was 
creeping up the east, and a bar or two of vivid fire 
proclaimed the coming of the sun. The priests were 
astir to receive the early pilgrims, and as Paul led me 
to the edge of the parapet I could see far away below 
the torches of the new-comers dotted in thin lines of fire 


134 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


down the mountain-side. Some pilgrims had arrived 
before us, and stood shivering in their thin white 
garments about the summit. 

“ Presently the distant sound of measured chanting 
came floating up on the tranquil air, sank and died away, 
and rose again more loudly. Paler and paler grew the 
heavens, nearer and nearer swept the chanting; and 
now the first pilgrim swung himself up into our view, 
quenched his torch and bowed in homage. Others 
following did the same, all adoring, until the terrace 
was crowded with worshippers gazing eager and breath- 
less into the far east, where brighter and brighter the 
crimson bars of morning were widening. 

“ Then with a leap flashed up the sun, the dazzling 
centre of a flood of golden light. Godlike and re- 
splendent he rode up on wreaths of twirling mist, and 
with one stroke sent the shadows quivering back to the 
very corners of heaven. As the blazing orb topped the 
horizon, every head bent in worship, every hand arose in 
welcome, every voice broke out in trembling adoration, 
‘ Saadoo ! Saadoo ! ’ Even I, the only European there, 
could not forbear from bowing my head and lifting up 
my hands, so carried away was I with the aching fer- 
vour of this crowd. There they stood and bent until 
the whole fiery ball was clear, then turning, paced to 
the sound of chanting up the rough steps and laid their 
offerings on the shrine. Thrice at each new offering 
rang out a clattering gong, and the worshipper stepped 
reverently back to make way for another ; while all the 


THE SHADOW OP THE PEAK. 


135 


time the newly-risen sun blazed aslant on their robes of 
dazzling whiteness. 

“As I stood watching this strange scene, Peter 
plucked me by the. sleeve and pointed westward. I 
looked, and all the wonders I had yet viewed became 
as nothing. For there, disregarded by the crowd, but 
plain and manifest, rose another Peak, graven in shadow 
upon the western sky. Bold and confronting, it soared 
into heaven and, whilst I gazed in silent awe, came 
striding nearer through the void air, until it seemed to 
sweep down upon me — and was gone ! For many a day 
had the shadow of this mighty cone lain upon my soul ; 
here, on the very summit, that shadow took visible form 
and shape, then paled into the clear blue. Has its 
invisible horror left me now at last ? I doubt it. 

But by this time the sun was high, and the last 
pilgrim with a lingering cry of f Saadoo ! ’ was leaving 
the summit. So, although my ankle was now be- 
ginning to give me exquisite pain, I gave the order to 
return. Before leaving, however, I looked for a moment 
at the sacred footprint, to my mind the least of the 
wonders of the Peak, and resembling no foot that ever 
I saw. We had gone but a few steps when I plainly 
guessed from the state of my ankle that our descent 
would be full of danger, but the guides assured me of 
their carefulness ; so once more we attacked the chains. 

“ How we got down I shall never fully know ; but 
at last and after infinite pain we stood at the foot of 
the cliff and entered the forest of rhododendrons. And 


136 


DEAD MAN’S EOCK. 


here, to the wild astonishment of my guides who 
plainly thought me mad, I bade them leave me and 
proceed ahead, remaining within call. They were full 
of protestations and dismay, but I was firm. Trusty 
they might be, but it was well in this matter to dis- 
trust everything and everybody. Finally, therefore, 
they obeyed, and I sat watching until their white-clad 
forms disappeared in the thicket. 

“ As soon as I judged them to have gone a sufficient 
distance, I arose and followed, cautiously counting my 
footsteps. But this was needless; my father had de- 
scribed the tree as f noticeable and not to be missed/ 
nor was he wrong. Barely had I counted five hundred 
paces when it rose into view, uncouth and monstrous. 
All around it spread the crimson blossoms of huge 
rhododendrons; but this strange tree was at once 
unlike any of its fellows and of a kind altogether 
unknown to me. Its roots were partly bare, and 
writhed in fantastic coils across the track. Above these 
rose and spread its seven trunks matted with creepers, 
and then united about four feet below the point where 
the branches began. Its foliage was of a dark, glossy 
green, particularly dense, and its height, as I should 
judge, some sixty feet. 

“ Taking out my compass, I started from the left- 
hand side of the narrow track, and at a right angle to 
it. The undergrowth gave me much trouble, and once 
I had to make a circuit round a huge rhododendron ; 
but I fought my way through, and after going, a s I 


TUB SEARCH FOR THE SECRET. 


137 


reckoned, thirty-two paces, pulled up full in front of — 
another rhododendron. 

“ There must he some mistake. My father had 
spoken of a ‘ stone shaped like a man's head/ but said 
nothing of a rhododendron tree, and indeed this parti- 
cular tree was in nowise different from its companions. 
I looked around ; took a few steps to the right, then to 
the left; went round the tree; walked back a few 
paces ; returned to the tree to see if it concealed any- 
thing ; then sought the track to begin my measurement 
afresh. 

“ I was just starting again in a very discomposed 
mood, when a thought struck me. I had been behaving 
like a fool. The parchment said ( at a right angle to 
the left-hand edge of the track/ I had started from my 
left hand, but I was descending the mountain, whereas 
the directions of course supposed the explorer to be 
ascending. Almost ready to laugh at my stupidity, I 
tried again. 

“ Facing round, I got the needle at an angle of 
ninety degrees, and once more began counting. My 
heart was beginning to beat quickly by this time, and I 
felt myself trembling with excitement. The course was 
now more easily followed. True, the growth was as 
thick as ever, but no rhododendrons blocked my pas- 
sage. Beating down the creepers that swung across my 
face, twined around my legs, and caught at my cap, I 
measured thirty-two paces as nearly as I could, and then 
stopped. 


138 


DEAD MAN'S EOCX. 


“ Before me was a patch of velvet grass, some twelve 
feet square and bare of the undergrowth that crowded 
elsewhere ; but not a trace of a stone. I looked right 
and left, crossed the tiny lawn, peered all about, but 
still saw nothing at all resembling what I sought. 

“ As it began to dawn on me that all my hopes had 
been duped, my journey vain, and my father's words 
an empty cheat, a sickening despair got hold of me. 
My knees shook together, and big drops of sweat 
gathered on my forehead. I roused myself and searched 
again j again I was baffled. Distractedly I beat the 
bushes round and round the tiny lawn, then flung 
myself down on the turf and gave way to my despair. 
To this, then, it had all come ; this was the end for 
which I had abandoned my wife and child; this the, 
treasure that had dangled so long before my eyes, 
Fool that I had been ! I cursed my madness and the 
hour when I was born ; never before had I heartily 
despised myself, never until now did I know how the 
lust for this treasure had eaten into my soul. The 
secret, if sepret indeed there were, and all were not a lie, 
was in the keeping of the silent Peak. 

(< I almost wept with wrath. I tore the turf in my 
frenzy, and felt as one who would fain curse God and 
die. But after a while my passion spent itself. I sat 
up and reflected that after all my first direction might 
have been the right one ; at any rate, I would try it 
again and explore it thoroughly. The instructions were 
precise, and had been confirmed in the m jitter of the 


THE GRAVEN HEAD. 


139 


tree. Evidently the person that wrote them had been 
upon the Peak, and what, if they were lies, was to be 
gained by the cheat ? 

“I pulled out the parchment again and read it 
through ; then started to my feet with fresh energy. 
I was just leaving the little lawn and returning down 
my path, when it struck me that the bush on my left 
hand was of a curious shape. It seemed a mere tangled 
knot of creepers covered with large white blossom, and 
rose to about my own height. Carelessly I thrust my 
stick into the mass, when its point jarred upon — 
stone ! 

“ Yes, stone ! In a moment my knife was out and 
I was down on hands and knees cutting and tearing at 
the tendrils. Some of them were full three inches 
thick, but I slashed and tugged, with breath that came 
ind went immoderately fast, with bleeding hands and 
thumping heart, until little by little the stone was bared 
and its outlines revealed themselves. 

“But as they grew distinct and I saw what 
I had uncovered, I fell back in terror. The stone 
was about five feet ten inches in height, and was 
roughly shaped to represent a human head and neck. 
But the face it was that froze my heated blood in 
horror. Never until I die shall I forget that hellish 
expression. It was the smoothly-shaven face of a man 
of about fifty years of age, roughly carved after the 
fashion of many of the ruins on this mountain. But 
whoevs o r fashioned it, the artist must have been a fiend. 


140 


DEAD MAN'S EOCK. 


If ever malignant hate was expressed in form, it stood 
before me. Even the blank pupils made the malevolence 
seem but the more undying. Every feature, every 
line was horrible, every touch of the chisel had added 
a fresh grace of devilish spite. It was simply Evil 
petrified. 

“ As this awful face, bared of the innocent creeper 
that for years had shrouded its ugliness from the light 
of day, confronted me, a feeling of such repulsion over- 
came me that for several minutes I could not touch it. 
The neck was loosely set in a sort of socket fixed in the 
earth ; this was all the monster's pedestal. I saw that 
it barely needed a man's strength to send it toppling 
over. Yet for a moment I could summon up none. 
At length I put my hands to it and with an effort sent 
it crashing over amid the brushwood. 

“ The trough in which this colossal head had rested 
was about four feet in depth, and narrowed towards the 
bottom. I put down my hand and drew out — a human 
thigh-bone. The touch of this would have turned me 
sick again, had not the statue’s face already surfeited 
me with horror. As it was, I was nerved for any sight. 
The passion of my discovery was upon me, and I tossed 
the mouldering bones out to right and left. 

“But stay. There seemed a great many in the 
trough. Surely this was the third thigh-bone that I 
held now in my hand. Yes, and below, close to the bot- 
tom of the trough, lay two skulls side by side. There 
were two, then, buried here. The parchment had only 


THE TOMB OF THE SECRET. 


141 


spoken of one. But I had no time to consider about 
this. What I sought now was the Secret, and as I took 
up the second skull I caught the gleam of metal under- 
neath it. I put in my hand and drew out a Buckle of 
Gold. 

“ This buckle is formed of two pieces, hound to 
either end of a thin belt of rotten linen, and united by 
hook and socket. Its whole dimensions are but 3 in. 
x 2 in., but inside its curiously carved border it is en- 
tirely covered with writing in rude English character. 
The narrowing funnel of the trough had kept it from 
being crushed by the statue, which fitted into a rim 
running round the interior. Beyond the buckle and the 
two skeletons there was nothing in the trough ; but I 
looked for nothing else. Here, in my hands, lay the 
secret of the Great Ruby of Ceylon ; my fingers clutched 
the wealth of princes. My journey had ended and the 
riches of the earth were in my grasp. 

“ Forgetful of my guides, forgetful of the flight of 
time, mindful of nothing but the Golden Buckle, I sat 
down by the rim of the trough and began to decipher 
the writing. The inscription, as far as I could gather, 
ran right across the clasp. It could be read easily enough 
and contained accurate directions for searching in some 
spot, but where that spot was it did not reveal. It 
might be close to the statue ; and I was about to start 
up and make the attempt when I thought again of 
the parchment. Pulling it from my pocket, I read : 
€ , . beneath this done Lies the secret of the Great 


142 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


Ruby ; and yet not all, for the rest is graven on the Key 
which shall be already entrusted to you. These precau- 
tions have I taJcen that none may surprise this Secret 
but its right possessor. . . / 

“Now my father's Will had expressly enjoined, on 
pain of his dying curse, that this key should not be 
moved from its place until the Trenoweth who went to 
seek the treasure should have returned and crossed the 
threshold of Lantrig. Consequently the ruby was not 
buried on Adam's Peak, or to return for the key would 
have been so much labour wasted. Consequently, also, 
the Golden Buckle was valueless to anybody but him 
who knew the rest of my father's injunctions. Al- 
though not yet in my hand, the Great Ruby was mine. 
I was folding up the buckle with the parchment before 
rejoining the guides, when a curious thing happened. 

“The sun had climbed high into heaven whilst 1 
was absorbed in my search, and was now flooding the 
little lawn with light. In my excitement I had heard 
and seen nothing, nor noted that the heat was growing 
unbearable beneath the vertical rays. But as I was 
folding up the parchment a black shadow suddenly fell 
across the page. I started and looked up. 

“Above me stood Simon Colliver. 

“ He was standing in the broad light of the sun 
and watching me intently, with a curious smile which 
grew as our eyes met. How long he had been there I 
could not guess, but the strangeness of meeting him on 
this spot, and the occupation in which I was surprised, 


A STRANGE MEETING. 


143 


discomposed me not a little. Hastily thrusting back 
the buckle and the parchment into my pocket, I 
scrambled to my feet and stood facing him. Even as I 
did so, all Mr. Sanderson’s warnings came flashing into 
my mind. 

“ For full a minute we stood confronting each other 
without a word. He was still standing in the full 
blaze of the sunlight, with the same odd smile upon his 
face, and a peculiar light in his dark eyes that never 
swerved for a moment. Finally he gave a low laugh 
and nodding lightly, said — 

“ ‘ Odd thing our meeting like this, eh ? Hand of 
Fate or some such thing might be mixed up in it from 
the way we run across each other’s path/ 

“ I assented. 

“ ‘ Queer too, you’ll allow, that we should both be 
struck with the fancy for ascending this mountain. 
Very few Europeans do it, so I’m told. Pm on my 
way up, are you ? No ? Coming down and taking 
things easily, to judge by the way I found you 
occupied/ 

“ Was the man mocking me? Or had he, after all, 
no suspicions? His voice was soft and pleasant as 
ever, nor could I detect a trace of irony in its tone. 
But I was on my guard. 

“ * This Peak seems strewn with the handiwork of 
the heathen/ he continued. f But really you seem to 
be in luck’s way. I congratulate you. What’s this ? 
Skeletons, eh? Upon fiay word, Trenoweth, you’ve 


144 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


unearthed d treasure. And this? A statue? Well, 
it's a queer place to come hunting for statues, but 
you've picked up an ugly-looking beggar in all con- 
science 1 ' 

“ He had advanced to the head, which lay in the 
rank herbage staring up in hideous spite to heaven. 
Presently he turned to me and said — 

“ ‘ Well, this is very remarkable. The fellow who 
carved this seems to have borrowed my features — not 
very complimentary of him, I must say. Don't you see 
the likeness ? ' 

“ It was solemn truth. Feature by feature that 
atrocious face was simply a reproduction of Colliver's. 
As I stared in amazement, it seemed more and more 
marvellous that I had not noticed the resemblance be- 
fore. True, each feature was distorted and exaggerated 
to produce the utter malignity of its expression. But 
the face was the face of Colliver. Nobody could have 
called him a handsome man, but before this I had found 
Colliver not unpleasant to look upon. Now the hate of 
the statue's face seemed to have reflected itself upon him. 
I leant against a tree for support and passed my hand 
across my brow as if to banish a fearful dream. But it 
was no dream, and when he turned to speak again 
I could see lurking beneath the assumed expression of 
the man all the evil passions and foul wickedness 
engraved upon the stone. 

“ i Well,' he remarked, f stranger things than this 
have happened, but not much. You seem distressed. 


THE LIKENESS. 


145 


Trenoweth. Surely I, if any one, have the right to he 
annoyed. But you let your antiquarian zeal carry you 
too far. It's hardly fair to dig these poor remains from 
their sepulchre and leave them to bleach beneath this 
tropical sun, even in the interest of science.' 

“ With this he knelt down and began to gather — 
very reverently, as I thought — the bones into a heap, 
and replace them in their tomb. This done, he kicked 
up a lump or two of turf from the little lawn and 
pressed it down upon them, humming to himself all the 
while. Finally he rose and turned again towards me — 

“ 1 You'll excuse me, Trenoweth. It's sentimental, 
no doubt, but I have conceived a kind of respect for 
these remains. Suppose, for example, this face was 
really a portrait of one of this buried pair. Why, 
then the deceased was very like me. I forgive him for 
caricaturing my features now ; were he alive, it might 
he different. But this place is sufficiently out of the 
way to prevent the resemblance being noted by many. 
By the way, I forgot to ask how you chanced on this 
spot. For my part, I thought that I heard something 
moving in the thicket, so I followed the sound out of 
pure curiosity, and came upon you. Well, well ! it's a 
strange world ; and it's a wonderful thought too, that 
this may be the grave of some primjeval ancestor of 
mine who roamed this Peak for his daily food — an 
ancestor of some importance too, in his day, to judge 
by the magnificence of his tomb. A poet might make 
something out of this : to-day face to face with the day 


146 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


before yesterday. But that's the beauty of archaeology. 
I did not know it was a pursuit of yours, and am glad 
to see you are sufficiently recovered of your illness to 
take it up again. Good-bye for the present. I am 
obliged to be cautious in taking farewell of you, for we 
have such a habit of meeting unexpectedly. So, as I 
have to be up and moving for the summit, I'll say 
“ Good-bye for the present." We may as well leave 
this image where it is ; the dead won't miss it, and it's 
handy by, at any rate. Addio , Trenoweth, and best of 
luck to your future researches.' 

“ He was gone. I could hear him singing as he 
went a strange song which he had often sung on the 
outward voyage — 

“ ‘ Sing hey ! for the dead man’s lips, my lads ; 

Sing ho ! for the dead man’s soul. 

At his red, red lips . . . , .* 

“ The song died away in the distance before I moved. 
I had hardly opened my lips during the interview, and 
now had much ado to believe it a reality. But the 
newly-turfed grave was voucher enough for this. A 
horror of the place seized me ; I cast one shuddering 
look at the giant face and rushed from the spot, leaving 
the silent creepers to veil once more that awful likeness 
from the eyes of day. 

“ As I emerged upon the track again I came upon 
Peter and Paul, who were seeking me high and low, 
with dismay written upon their faces. Excusing my 
absence as best I could, I declared myself ready, in spite 


COLLI VER SAYS GOOD BYE. 


147 


of my ankle, to make all haste in the descent. Of our 
journey down the Peak I need say little, except that, 
lame as I was, I surprised and exhausted my guides in 
my hurry. Of the dangers and difficulties which had 
embarrassed our ascent I seemed to feel nothing. 
Except in the cool of the forest, the heat was almost 
insufferable ; hut I would hear of no delay until we 
reached Ratnapoora. Here, instead of returning as we 
had come, we took a boat down the Kalu-ganga river 
to Cattura, and thence travelled along the coast by 
Pantura to Colombo. 

“ The object of my journey is now accomplished : 
and it only remains to hasten home with all speed. But 
I am feeling strangely unwell as I write this. My 
head has never fully recovered that blow at Bombay, 
and I think the hours during which I remained exposed 
to the sun's rays, by the side of that awful image, must 
have affected it. Or perhaps the fatigue of the journey 
has worn me out. If I am going to sicken I must hide 
my secret. It would be safer to bury it with the Jour- 
nal, at any rate for the time, somewhere in the garden 
here. I have a tin box that will just answer the 
purpose. My head is giving me agony. I can write 

a 


no more.' 


CHAPTER X. 

CONTAINS THE THIRD AND LAST PART OP MY FATHER’S 
JOURNAL: SETTING FORTH THE MUTINY ON BOARD 
THE BELLE FORTUNE. 

“ June 19th. — Strange that wherever I am hospitably 
entertained I recompense my host by falling ill in his 
house. Since my last entry in this Journal I have been 
lying at the gate of death, smitten down with a sore 
sickness. It seems that the long exposure and weari- 
ness of my journey to the Peak threw me into a fever : 
but of this I should soon have recovered, were it not 
for my head, which I fear will never be wholly right 
again. That cowardly blow upon Malabar Hill has 
made a sad wreck of me ; twice, when I seemed in a fair 
way to recovery, has my mind entirely given way. Mr. 
Eversleigh, indeed, assures me that my life has more 
than once been despaired of — and then what would have 
become of poor Margery ? I hope I am thankful to 
God for so mercifully sparing my poor life, the more so 
because conscious how unworthy I am to appear before 
Him. 

“ I trust I did not betray my secret in my wander- 
ings. Mr. Eversleigh tells me I talked the strangest 
stuff at times - - about rubies and skeletons, and a 


MORE DELAY. 


149 


certain dreadful face from which I was struggling to 
escape. But the security of my Journal and the golden 
clasp, which I recovered to-day, somewhat reassures me. 
I am allowed to walk in the garden for a short space 
every day, hut not until to-day have I found strength 
to dig for my hoard. I can hardly describe my emotions 
on finding it safe and sound. 

“ Poor Margery ! How anxious she must he getting 
at my silence. I will write her to-morrow — at least I 
will begin my letter to-morrow, for I shall not have 
strength to finish it in one day. Even now I ought 
not to be writing, but I cannot forbear making an entry 
in my recovered Journal, if only to record my thank- 
fulness to Heaven for my great deliverance. 

“ June 22nd. — I have written to Margery, but torn 
the letter up on second thoughts, as I had better wait 
until I hear news of a vessel in which I can safely travel 
home. Mr. Eversleigh (who is very kind to me, though 
not so hearty as Mr. Sanderson) will not hear of my 
starting in my present condition. I wonder in what 
part of the world Colliver is travelling now. 

“ July 1st. — Oh, this weary waiting ! Shall I never 
see the shores of England again ? The doctor says that 
I only make myself worse with fretting ; but it is hard 
to linger so — when at my journey's end lies wealth 
almost beyond the imagination, and (what is far more 
to me) the sight of my dear ones. 

“ J uly 4-th. — In answer to my entreaties, Mr. E /ers- 
leigh has consented to make inquiries about the h' me- 


150 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


ward-bound vessels starting from Colombo. The result 
is that he has at once allayed my impatience, and com- 
passed his end of keeping me a little longer, by selecting 
— upon condition that I approve his choice — an East 
Indiaman due to sail in about a fortnight's time. The 
name of the ship is the Belle Fortune , and of the cap- 
tain, Cyrus Holding. In spite of the name the ship is 
English, and is a barque of about 600 tons register. Her 
cargo consists of sugar and coffee, and her crew numbers 
some eighteen hands. To-morrow I am going down 
with Mr. Eversleigh to inspect her, but I am prepared 
beforehand to find her to my liking. The only pity is 
that she does not start earlier. 

“ July 6th. — Weak as I am, even yesterday’s short 
excursion exhausted me, so that I felt unable to write a 
word last night. I have been over the Belle Fortune , 
and am more than pleased, especially with her captain, 
whose honest face took my fancy at once. I have a 
most comfortable cabin next to his set apart for me, at 
little cost, since it had been fitted up for a lady on the 
outward voyage : so that I shall still have a little money 
in pocket on my return, as my living, both here and at 
Bombay, has cost me nothing, and the doctor’s bills have 
not exhausted my store. I wrote to Margery to-day, 
making as light of my illness as I could, and saying 
nothing of the business on Malabar Hill. That will 
best be told her when she has me home again, and 
can hold my hand feeling that I am secure. 

“ July 8th. — I have been down again to-day to see 


THE BELLE FORTUNE. 


151 


the Belle Fortune . I forgot to say that she belongs to 
Messrs. Vincent and Hext, of Bristol, and is bound for 
that port. The only other passengers are a Dr. Concanen 
and his wife, who are acquaintances of Mr. Eversleigh. 
Dr. Concanen is a physician with a good practice in 
Colombo, or was — as his wife's delicate health has forced 
him to throw up his employment here and return to 
England. Mr. Eversleigh introduced me to them this 
morning on the Belle Fortune . The husband is almost 
as tall as my host, and looks a man of great strength : 
Mrs. Concanen is frail and worn, but very lovely. 
To-day she seemed so ill that I offered to give up my 
cabin, which is really much more comfortable than 
theirs. But she would not hear of it, insisting that 1 
was by far the greater invalid, and that a sailing vessel 
would quickly set her right again — especially a vessel 
bound for England. Altogether they promise to be most 
pleasant companions. I forgot to say that Mrs. Con- 
canen is taking a native maid home to act as her nurse. 

“ July 11th. — We start in a week's time. I had a 
long talk with Captain Holding to-day; he hopes to 
make a fairly quick passage, but says he is short of 
hands. I have not seen the Concanens since. 

“ July 16th. — We sail to-morrow afternoon. I have 
been down to make my final preparations, and find my 
cabin much to my liking. Captain Holding is still 
short of hands. 

“ July 17th., 7.30 p.m. — We cast off our warps 
shortly after four o'clock, and were quickly running 


152 


DEAD MAN’S HOCK. 


homeward at about seven knots an hour. The Concanena 
stood on deck with me watching Ceylon grow dim on 
the horizon. As the proud cone of Adam’s Peak faded 
softly and slowly into the evening mist, and so vanished, 
as I hope, for ever out of my life, I could not forbear 
returning thanks to Providence, which has thus far 
watched over me so wonderfully. There is a fair breeze, 
and the hands, though short, do their work well to all 
appearances. There were only fifteen yesterday, three 
having been missed for about a week before we sailed ; 
but I have not yet seen Captain Holding to ask him 
if he made up his number of hands at the last moment. 
Mrs. Concanen has invited me to their cabin to have a 
chat about England. 

“July 18th. — I am more disturbed than I care to 
own by a very curious discovery which I made this 
morning. As I issued on deck I saw a man standing 
by the forecastle, whose back seemed familiar to me. 
Presently he turned, and I saw him to be Simon Colliver. 
He has most strangely altered his appearance, being 
dressed now as a common sailor, and wearing rings in 
his ears as the custom is. Catching sight of me, he came 
forward with a pleasant smile and explained himself. 

“ ‘ It is no manner of use, Trenoweth ; we’re fated 
to meet. You did not expect to see me here in this 
get-up ,• but I learnt last night you were on board. 
You look as though you had seen a ghost ! Don’t stare 
so, man — I should say “ sir” now, I suppose — it’s only 
another of fortune’s rubs. I fell ill after that journey 


COLLIVER ONCE MORE. 


153 


to the Peak, and although Railton nursed me like a 
woman — he's a good fellow, Railton, and not as rough 
as you would expect — I woke up out of my fever at 
last to find all the money gone. I'm a fellow of re- 
source, Trenoweth, so I hit on the idea of working my 
passage home ; by good luck found the Belle Fortune 
was short of hands, offered my services, was accepted 
— having been to sea before, you know — sold my old 
clothes for this costume — must dress when one is acting 
a part — and here I am.’ 

“ ( Is Railton with you ? ' I asked. 

u ( Oh, yes, similarly attired. I did not see you 
yesterday, being busy with the cargo, so that it's all 
the more pleasant to meet here. But work is the 
order of the day now. You’ll give me a good character 
to the captain, won't you ? Good-bye for the present.' 

" I cannot tell how much this meeting has depressed 
me. Certainly I have no reason for disbelieving the 
man's story, but the frequency and strangeness of our 
meetiugs make it hard to believe them altogether acci- 
dental. I saw Railton in the afternoon : he is greatly 
altered for the worse, and, I should think, had been 
drinking heavily before he shipped ; but the captain 
was evidently too short of hands to be particular. I 
think I will give the Concanens my tin box to hide in 
their cabin. Of course I can trust them, and this will 
baffle theft ; the clasp I will wear about me. This is a 
happy idea ; I will go to their cabin now and ask them. 
It is 9.30 p.m., and the wind is still fair, I believe. 


154 


DEAD MAN’S HOCK. 


“ July 20th. — We have so far kept up an average 
speed of seven and a half knots an hour, and Captain 
Holding thinks we shall make even better sailing when 
the hands are more accustomed to their work. I spend 
my time mostly with the Concanens — who readily, by 
the way, undertook the care of my tin box — and find 
them the most agreeable of fellow-travellers. Mrs. 
Concanen has a very sweet voice, and her husband 
has learnt to accompany it on the guitar, so that alto- 
gether we spend very pleasant evenings. 

“ July 21st, 22nd, 23rd. — The weather is still 
beautiful, and the breeze steady. Last night, at about 
six in the evening, it freshened up, and we ran all night 
under reefed topsails in expectation of a squall ; but 
nothing came of it. I trust the wind will last, not only 
because it brings me nearer home, but also because 
without it the heat would be intolerable. The mention 
of home leads me to say that Mrs. Concanen was most 
sympathetic when I spoke of Margery. It is good to 
be able to talk of my wife to this kind creature, and she 
is so devoted to her husband that she plainly finds it 
easy to sympathise. They are a most happy couple. 

“ July 24th. — Our voyage, hitherto so prosperous, 
has been marred to-day by a sad accident. Mr. Wilkins, 
the mate, was standing almost directly under the main- 
mast at about 4.30 this afternoon, when Railton, who 
was aloft, let slip a block, which descended on the 
mate’s head, striking it with fearful force and killing 
Vm instantly. He was an honest, kindly man, to judge 


THE VOYAGE. 


155 


from the little I have seen of him, and, as Captain 
Holding assures me, an excellent navigator. Poor 
Railton was dreadfully upset by the effects of his clumsi- 
ness ; although I dislike the man, I have not the heart 
to blame him when I see the contrition upon his face. 

“ July 25th, midnight. — We buried Wilkins to-day. 
Captain Holding read the burial service, and was much 
affected, for Wilkins was a great friend of his ; we then 
lowered the body into the sea. I spent the evening 
with the Concanens, the captain being on deck and 
too depressed to receive consolation. Nor. was it much 
better with us in the cabin. Although we tried to 
talk we were all depressed and melancholy, and I retired 
earlier than usual to write my Journal. 

“ July 26th to August 4th. — There has been nothing 
to record. The wind has been fair as yet throughout, 
though it dropped yesterday (Aug. 3rd), and we lay for 
some hours in a dead calm. We have recovered our 
spirits altogether by this time. 

“ August 5th. — One of our hands, Griffiths, fell 
overboard to-day and was drowned. He and Colliver 
were out upon the fore-yard when Griffiths slipped, 
and missing the deck, fell clear into the sea. The 
captain was below at the time, but rushed upon deck on 
hearing Colliver's alarm of ‘ Man overboard ! * It was 
too late, however. The vessel was making eight knots 
an hour at the time, and although it was immediately 
put about, there was not the slightest hope of finding the 
poor fellow. Indeed, wc never saw him again.” 


156 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


[At this point the Journal becomes strangely meagre, 
consisting almost entirely of disconnected jottings about 
the weather, while here and there occurs merely a 
date with the latitude and longitude entered opposite. 
Only two entries seem of any importance : one of 
August 20th, noting that they had doubled the Cape, 
and a second written two days later and running as 
follows : — ] 

“ August 22nd. — Dr. Concanen came into my cabin 
early this morning and told me that his wife had just 
given birth to a son. He seemed prodigiously elated, 
and I congratulated him heartily, as this is the first child 
born to them. He stayed but a moment or so with me, 
and then went back to attend to his wife. I spent most 
of the day on deck with Captain Holding, who is un- 
ceasingly vigilant now. Wind continues steadily S.E.” 

[After this the record is again scanty, but among less 
important entries we found the following : — ] 

“ August 29th. — Mrs. Concanen rapidly recovering. 
The child is a fine boy : so, at least, the doctor s^ys, 
though I confess I should have thought it rather small. 
However, it seems able to cry lustily. 

“ Sept. 6th. — Sighted Ascension Island. 

“Sept. 8th, 9th. — Wind dropping off and heat 
positively stifling. A curious circumstance occurred to- 
day (the 9 th), which shows that I did well v to be careful 
of my Journal. I was sitting on deck with the Con- 
can ens, beneath an awning which the doctor has rigged 
up to protect us from the heat, when our supply of to- 


SUSPICIONS. 


157 


bacco ran short. As I was descending for more I met 
Colliver coming out of my cabin. He was rather dis- 
concerted at seeing me, but invented some trivial excuse 
about fetching a thermometer which Captain Holding 
had lent me. I am confident now that he was on the 
look-out for my papers, the more so as I had myself 
restored the thermometer to the captain's cabin two 
days ago. It is lucky that I confided my papers to the 
Concanens. As for Railton, the hangdog look on that 
man’s face has increased with his travels. He seems 
quite unable to meet my eye, and returns short, surly 
answers if questioned. I cannot think his dejection 
is solely due to poor Wilkins' death, for I noticed some- 
thing very like it on the outward voyage." 

[Here follow a few jottings on weather and speed, 
which latter — with the exception of five days during 
which the vessel lay becalmed — seems to have been very 
satisfactory. On the 17th they caught a light breeze 
from N.E., and on the 19th passed Cape Verde. Soon 
after this the Journal becomes connected again, and so 
continues.] 

“ Sept. 24th. — Just after daybreak, went on deck, 
and found Captain Holding already there. This man 
seems positively to require no sleep. Since Wilkins' 
death he has managed the navigation almost entirely 
alone. He seemed unusually grave this morning, and 
told me that four of the hands had been taken ill during 
the night with violent attacks of vomiting, and were 
lying below in great danger. He had not seen the 


158 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


doctor yet, but suspected that something was wrong 
with the food. At this point the doctor joined us and 
took the captain aside. They conversed earnestly for 
about three minutes, and presently I heard the captain 
exclaiming in a louder tone, ( Well, doctor, of course you 
know best, but I can’t believe it for all that.’ Shortly 
after the doctor went below again to look after his 
patients. He was very silent when we met again at 
dinner, and I have not seen him since. 

“ Sept. 25th. — One of the hands, Walters, died 
during the night in great agony. We sighted the Peak 
of Teneriffe early in the afternoon, and I remained on 
deck with Mrs. Concanen, watching it. The doctor is 
below, analysing the food. I believe he is completely 
puzzled by this curious epidemic. 

“ Sept. 26th. — Wind N.E., but somewhat lighter. 
Three more men seized last night with precisely the 
same symptoms. With three deaths and five men ill, 
we are now left with but nine hands (not counting the 
captain) to work the ship. Walters was buried to-day. 
I learned from Mrs. Concanen that her husband has 
made a post mortem examination of the body. I do not 
know what his conclusions are. 

“ I open my Journal again to record another disquiet- 
ing accident. It is odd, but I have missed one of the 
pieces of my father’s clasp. I am positive it was in my 
pocket last night. I now have an indistinct recollec- 
tion of hearing something fall whilst I was dressing 
this morning, but although I have searched both cabin 


THE DOCTOR IS PUZZLED. 


159 


and state-room thoroughly, I can find nothing. How- 
ever, even if it has fallen into Colliver's hands, which 
is unlikely, he can make nothing of it, and luckily I 
know the words written upon it by heart. Still the loss 
has vexed me not a little. I will have another search 
before turning in to-night. 

“Sept. 27th. — Wind has shifted to N.W. The 
doctor was summoned during the night to visit one of 
the men taken ill two nights before. The poor fellow 
died before daybreak, and I hear that another is not 
expected to live until night. The doctor has only been 
on deck for a few minutes to-day, and these he occupied 
in talk with the captain, who seems to have caught the 
prevailing depression, for he has been going about in a 
state of nervous disquietude all the afternoon. I expect 
that want of sleep is telling upon him at last. The 
clasp is still missing. 

“ Sept. 28th. — A rough day, and all hands busily 
engaged. Wind mostly S.W., but shifted to due W. 
before nightfall. Three of the invalids are better, but 
the other is still lying in a very critical state. 

“ Sept. 29th, 30th, Oct. 1st, 2nd. — .Weather squally, 
so that we may expect heavy seas in the Bay of Bis- 
cay. All the invalids are by this time in a fair way 
of recovery, and one of them will be strong enough to 
return to work in a couple of days. Doctor Concanen is 
still strangely silent, however, and the captain's cheer- 
fulness seems quite to have left him. Oh, that this 
gloomy voyage were over ! 


160 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


“Oct. 3rd. — Weather clearer. Light breeze from 
S.S.W. 

u Oct. 5th. — Let me roughly put down in few words 
what has happened, not that I see at present any chance 
of leaving this accursed ship alive, but in the hope that 
Providence may thus be aided — as far as human aid 
may go — in bringing these villains to justice, if this 
Journal should by any means survive me. 

“ Last night, shortly before ten, I went at Doctor 
Concanen's invitation to chat in his cabin. The doctor 
himself was busily occupied with some medical works, 
to which, as his wife assured me, he had been giving his 
whole attention of late. But Mrs. Concanen and I sat 
talking together of home until close upon midnight, 
when the baby, who was lying asleep at her side, awoke 
and began to cry. Upon this she broke off her conver- 
sation and began to sing the little fellow to sleep. 
f Home, Sweet Home ’ was the song, and at the end of 
the first verse — so sweetly touching, however hack- 
neyed, to all situated as we — the doctor left his books, 
came over, and was standing behind her, running his 
hands, after a trick of his, affectionately through her 
hair, when the native nurse, who slept in the next cabin 
and had heard the baby crying, came in and offered to 
take him. Mrs. Concanen, however, assured her that it 
was not necessary, and the girl was just going out of 
the door when suddenly we heard a scream and then the 
captain’s voice calling, ( Trenoweth ! Doctor ! Help, 
help l ’ 


u HELP ! HELP ! W 


161 


“ The doctor immediately rushed past the maid and 
up the companion. I was just following at his heels 
when I heard two shots fired in rapid succession, and then 
a heavy crash. Immediately the girl fell with a shriek, 
and the doctor came staggering heavily back on top of 
her. Quick as thought, I pulled them inside, locked 
the cabin door, and began to examine their wounds. 
The girl was quite dead, being shot through the breast, 
while Concanen was bleeding terribly from a wound just 
below the shoulder: the bullet must have grazed his 
upper arm, tearing open the flesh and cutting an artery, 
passed on and struck the nurse, who was just behind. 
Mrs. Concanen was kneeling beside him and vainly 
endeavouring to staunch the flow of blood. 

“ Oddly enough, the attack, from whatever quarter 
it came, was not followed up ; but I heard two more 
shots fired on deck, and then a loud crashing and stamp- 
ing in the fore part of the vessel, and judged that the 
mutineers were battening and barricading the forecastle. 
I unlocked the door and was going out to explore the 
situation, when the doctor spoke in a weak voice — 

“ ‘ Quick, Trenoweth ! never mind me. I've got the 
main artery torn to pieces and can't last many more 
minutes — but quick for the captain's cabin and get the 
guns. They'll be down presently, as soon as they’ve 
finished up there.' 

“ Opening the door and telling Mrs. Concanen — who 
although white as a sheet never lost her presence of 
mind for a moment — to lock it after me, I stole along 


162 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


the passage, gained the captain's cabin, found two guns, 
a small keg of powder (to get at which I had to smash 
in a locker with the butt-end of one of the guns), and 
some large shot, brought I suppose for shooting gulls, 

“ I found also a large packet of revolver cartridges, 
hut no revolver; and it suddenly struck me that the 
shots already fired must have been from the captain’s 
revolver, taken probably from his dead body. Yes, as I 
remembered the sound of the shots I was sure of it. 
The mutineers had probably no other ammunition, and 
so far I was their master. 

“ Fearful that by smashing the locker I had made 
noise enough to be heard above the turmoil on deck, I 
returned swiftly and had just reached the door of 
Concanen's cabin, when I heard a shout above, and a 
man whom I recognised by the voice as J ohnston, the 
carpenter, came rushing down the steps crying, ‘ Hide 
me, doctor, hide me ! ' As Mrs. Concanen opened the 
door in answer to my call, another shot was fired, the 
man suddenly threw up his hands and we tumbled into 
the cabin together. I turned as soon as I had locked 
and barricaded the door, and saw him lying on his face 
— quite dead. He had been shot in the back, just below 
the shoulder-blades. 

“ The doctor also was at his last gasp, and the floor 
literally swam with blood. As we bent over him to 
catch his words he whispered, f It was Railton — that — 
I saw. Good-bye, Alice,' and fell back a corpse. I 
carried the body to a corner of the cabin, took of£ my 


IN THE CABIN. 


163 


jacket and covered up bis face, and turned to Mrs. 
Concanen. She was dry-eyed, but dreadfully white. 

“ ‘ Give me the guns/ she said quietly, ‘ and show 
me how to load them/ 

“ I was doing so when I heard footsteps coming 
slowly down the companion. A moment after, two 
crashing blows were struck upon the door-panel and 
Colli ver's voice cried — 

“ ‘ Trenoweth, you dog, are you hiding there ? Give 
me up those papers and come out/ 

“ For answer I sent a charge of shot through the 
cabin door, and in an instant heard him scrambling 
back with all speed up the stairs. 

“ By this time it was about 3 a.m., and to add 
to the horrors of our plight the lamp suddenly went out 
and left us in utter darkness. I drew Mrs. Concanen 
aside — after strengthening the barricade about the door 
— put her and the child in a corner where she would be 
safe if they attempted to fire through the skylight, and 
then sat down beside her to consider. 

“ If, as I suspected, the mutineers had only the 
revolver which they had taken from the captain, they 
had but one shot left, for I had already counted five, and 
it was not likely that Holding — who always, as I knew, 
carried some weapon with him — would have any loose 
cartridges upon him at a time when no one suspected the 
least danger. 

“ Next, as to numbers. Excluding Captain Holding 
— now dead — and including the cook I reckoned that 


164 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


there were fourteen, hands on board. Of these, five 
were sick and probably at this moment barricaded in 
the forecastle. One, the carpenter, was lying here dead, 
and from the shriek which preceded the captain's cry, 
another had already been accounted for by the mutineers. 

“This reduced the number to eight. The next 
question was, how many were the mutineers ? I had 
guessed at once that Colliver and Railton had a hand in 
the business, for (in addition to my previous distrust of 
the men) it was just upon midnight when we heard the 
first cry, that is to say, the time when the watch was 
changed, and I knew that these two belonged to the 
captain's watch. But could they be alone ? 

“ It seemed impossible, and yet I knew no others 
among the crew to distrust, and certainly Davis, who 
was acting as mate at present, was, although an in- 
different navigator, as true as steel. Moreover, the 
fact that the mutineers' success in shooting the doctor 
had not been followed up, made my guess seem more 
likely. Certainly Colliver and Railton were the only 
two of whom we could be sure as yet. Nevertheless the 
supposition was amazing. 

“I had arrived at this point in my calculations 
when a yell which I recognised, told me that they had 
caught Cox the helmsman and were murdering him. 
After this came dead silence, which lasted all through 
the night. 

“ I must hasten to conclude this, for we have no 
light in the cabin, and I am writing now by the faint 


I EXPLORE. 


165 


evening rays that struggle in through the sky-light. 
As soon as morning broke I determined to reconnoitre. 
Cautiously removing the barricade, I opened the cabin 
door and stole up the companion ladder. Arrived at the 
top I peered cautiously over and saw the mutineers 
sitting by the foreward hatch, drinking. They were 
altogether four in number — Colli ver, Railton, a seaman 
called Rogerson, who had lately been punished by 
Captain Holding for sleeping when on watch, and the 
cook, a Chinaman. Rogerson was not with the rest, but 
had hold of the wheel and was steering. The vessel at 
the time was sailing under crowded canvas before a stiff 
sou'-westerly breeze. I kept low lest Rogerson should 
see me, but he was obviously more than half drunk, and 
was chiefly occupied in regarding his comrades with 
anything but a pleasant air. Just as I was drawing a 
beautiful bead however, and had well covered Colliver, 
he saw me and gave the alarm ; and immediately the 
three sprang to their feet and made for me, the China- 
man first. Altering my aim I waited until he came 
close and then fired. I must have hit him, I think in 
the ankle, for he staggered and fell with a loud cry 
about ten paces from me. Seeing this, I made all speed 
again down the ladder, turning at the cabin door for a 
hasty shot with the second barrel, which, I think, 
missed. The other two pursued me until I gained the 
cabin, and then went back to their comrade. The rest 
of the day has been quite quiet. Luckily we have a 
large tin of biscuits in the cabin, so as far as food goes 


166 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


we can hold out for some time. Mrs. Concanen and 1 
are going to take turns at watching to-night. 

“Oct. 6th, 4 p.m. — At about 1.30 a.m. I was sleep- 
ing when Mrs. Concanen woke me on hearing a noise by 
the skylight. The mutineers, finding this to he the 
only point from which they could attack us with any 
safety, had hit upon the plan of lashing knives to the 
end of long sticks and were attempting to stab us with 
these clumsy weapons. It was so dark that I could 
hardly see to aim, but a couple of shots fired in rapid 
succession drove them quickly away. The rest of the 
night was passed quietly enough, except for the cries of 
the infant, which are very pitiable. The day, too, has 
been without event, except that I have heard occasional 
sounds in the neighbourhood of the forecastle, which I 
think must come from the sick men imprisoned there, 
and attempting to cut their way out. 

" Oct. 7th. — We are still let alone. Doubtless the 
mutineers think to starve us out or to lull us into a false 
security and catch us unawares. As for starvation, the 
box of biscuits will last us both for a week or more ; 
and they stand little chance of taking us by surprise, for 
one of us is always on the watch whilst the other sleeps. 
They spent last night in drinking. Railton's voice was 
very loud at times, and I could hear Colliver singing his 
infernal song — 

“ ‘ Sing hey ! for the dead man's lips, my lads.* 

That man must be a fiend incarnate. I have but little 


BESIEGED. 


167 


dine to write, and between every word have to look 
about for signs of the mutineers. I wonder whither 
they are steering us. 

“ Oct. 8th. — A rough day evidently, by the way in 
which the vessel is pitching, but I expect the crew are 
for the most part drunk. We must find some way of 
getting rid of the dead bodies soon. I hardly like to 
speak to Mrs. Concanen about it. Words cannot ex- 
press the admiration I feel for the pluck of this delicate 
woman. She asked me to-day to show her how to use a 
gun, and I believe will fight to the end. Her child is 
ailing fast, poor little man ! And yet he is happier 
than we, being unconscious of all these horrors. 

“ Oct. 9th, 3.30 p.m. — Sick of this inaction I made 
another expedition up the companion to-day. Rogerson 
was steering, and Railton standing by the wheel talk- 
ing to him. He had a bottle in his hand and seemed 
very excited. I could not see Colliver at first, but on 
glancing up at the rigging saw a most curious sight. 
There was a man on the main-top, the boatswain, 
Kelly, apparently asleep. Below him Colliver was 
climbing up, knife in mouth, and was already within a 
couple of yards of him. I fired and missed, but alarmed 
Kelly, who jumped up and seized a block which he had 
cut off to defend himself with. At the same moment 
Railton and Rogerson made for me. As I retreated 
down the ladder I stumbled, the gun went off and I 
think hit Rogerson, who was first. We rolled down the 
stairs together, he on top and hacking at me furiously 


168 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


with a knife. At this moment I heard the report of a 
gun, and my assailant’s grasp suddenly relaxed. He 
fell hack, tripping up Railton who was following un- 
steadily, and so giving me time to gain the cabin door, 
where Mrs. Concanen was standing, a smoking gun in 
her hand. Before we could shut the door, however, 
Colliver, who by this time had gained the head of the 
stairs, fired, and she dropped backwards inside the cabin. 
Locking the door, I found her lying with a wound just 
below the heart. She had just time to point to her 
child before she died. Was ever so ghastly a tragedy ? 

“ Oct. 10th. — Awake all night, trying to soothe the 
cries of the child, and at the same time keeping a good 
look-out for the mutineers. The sea is terribly rough, 
and the poor corpses are being pitched from side to side 
of the cabin. At midday I heard a cry on deck, and 
judged that Kelly had dropped from the rigging in pure 
exhaustion. The noise in the forecastle is awful. I 
think some of the men there must be dead. 

“ Oct. 11th, 5 p.m. — The child is dying. There is 
a fearful storm raging, and with this crew the vessel 
has no chance if we are anywhere near land. God 
help " 


CHAPTER XL 


TELLS OP THE WHITING UPON THE GOLDEN CLASP; AND 
HOW I TOOK DOWN THE GREAT KEY. 

So ended my father's Journal — in a silence full of 
tragedy, a silence filled in with the echo of that awful 
cry borne landwards on the wings of the storm ; and 
now, in the presence of this mute witness, shaping itself 
into the single word “ Murder." Of the effect of the 
reading upon us, I need not speak at any length. For 
the most part it had passed without comment ; but the 
occasional choking of Uncle Loveday’s voice, my own 
quickening breath as the narrative continued, and the 
tears that poured down the cheeks of both of us as we 
heard the simple loving messages for Margery — mes- 
sages so vainly tender, so pitifully fond — were evidence 
enough of our emotion. 

I say that we both wept, and it is true. But though, 
do what I could, my young heart would swell and ache 
until the tears came at times, yet for the most part I 
sat with cold and gathering hate. It was mournful 
enough when I consider it. That the hand which 
penned these anxious lines should be cold and stiff, the 
ear for which they were so lovingly intended for ever 
deaf : that all the warm hopes should end beside that 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


x’70 

bed where husband and wife lay dead — surely this was 
tragic enough. But I did not think of this at the time 
— or but dimly if at all. Hate, impotent hate, was 
consuming my young heart as the story drew to its end ; 
hate and no other feeling possessed me as Uncle Love- 
day broke abruptly off, turned the page in search of 
more, found none, and was silent. 

Once he had stopped for a moment to call for a 
candle. Mrs. Busvagus brought it, trimmed the wick, 
and again retired. This was our only interruption. J oe 
Roscorla had not returned from Polkimbra ; so we were 
left alone to the gathering shadows and the horror of 
the tale. 

When my uncle finished there was a long pause. 
Finally he reached out his hand for his pipe, filled it, 
and looked up. His kindly face was furrowed with the 
marks of weeping, and big tears were yet standing in 
his eyes. 

“ Murdered," he said, “ murdered, if ever man was 
murdered." 

“Yes," I echoed, “murdered." 

“ But we'll have the villain," he exclaimed, bringing 
his fist down on the table with sudden energy. “ We’ll 
have him for all his cunning, eh, boy ? " 

“ Not yet," I answered ; “ he is far away by this 
time. But we'll have him : oh, yes, we'll have him." 

Uncle Loveday looked at me oddly for a moment, 
and then repeated — 

“ Yes, yes, we'll have him safe enough. Joe Roscorla 


WE EXAMINE THE CLASP. 


171 


must have given the alarm before he had time to go far. 
And to think/'’ he added, throwing up his hand, “ that 
I talked to the villain only yesterday morning as though 
he were some unfortunate victim of the sea ! ” 

I am sure that my uncle was regretting the vast 
deal of very fine language he had wasted: and, indeed, 
he had seldom more nobly risen to an occasion. 

“ Pearls, pearls before swine! Swine did I say? 
Snakes, if it’s not an insult to a snake to give its name 
to such as Colliver. What did you say, Jasper ? ” 

“ We’ll have him.” 

a J asper, my boy,” said he, scanning me for a second 
time oddly, “ maybe you’ll be better in bed. Try to 
sleep again, my poor lad — what do you think ? ” 

“ I think,” I answered, “that we have not yet 
looked at the clasp.” 

“ My dear boy, you’re right : you’re right again. 
Let us look at it.” 

The piece of metal resembled, as I have said, the 
half of a waist-buckle, having a socket but no corre- 
sponding hook. In shape it was slightly oblong, being 
about 2 in. by l£in. It glittered brightly in the 
candle’s ray as Uncle Loveday polished it with his 
handkerchief, readjusted his spectacles, and bent over it. 

At the end of a minute he looked up, and said — 

“ I cannot make head or tail of it. It seems plain 
enough to read, but makes nonsense. Come over here 
and see for yourself.” 

I bent over his shoulder, and this is what I saw — 


172 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


The edge of the clasps wa engraved with a border of 
flowers and beasts, all exquisitely small. Within this 
was cut, by a much rougher hand, an inscription which 
was plain enough to read, though making no sense what- 
ever. The writing was arranged in five lines of three 
words apiece, and ran thus : — 

MOON . END . SOUTH. 

N.N.W. . 22 . FEET. 

NORTH . SIDE . 4 . 

DEEP . AT . POINT. 

WATER . lA . HOURS. 

I read the words a full dozen times, and then, failing 
of any interpretation, turned to Uncle Loveday — 

“ Jasper," said he, “ to my mind those words make 
nonsense." 

“ And to mine, uncle." 

“Now attend to me, Jasper. This is evidently but 
one half of the clasp which your father discovered. 
That's as plain as daylight. The question is, what has 
become of the other half, of the hook that should fit into 
this eye ? Now, what I want you to do is to try and 
remember if this was all that the man Railton jrave 
you.” 

“ This was all." 

“ You are quite certain ? " 

“ Quite." 

“You did not leave the other piece behind in the 
cow-shed by any chance ? " 


THE WItITING ON THE CLASP. 


173 


“ No, for I looked at the packet before I hid it, and 
there was only one piece of metal.” 

“Very well. One half of the golden clasp being 
lost, the next question is, what has become of it ? ” 

I nodded. 

“To this,” said Uncle Loveday, bending forward 
over the table, “ two answers are possible. Either it 
lies at the bottom of the sea with the rest of the freight 
of the Belle Fortune , or it is in Colliver’s possession/’ 

“ It may lie beneath Dead Man’s Rock, in J ohn 
Railton’s pocket,” I suggested. 

“ True, my boy, true ; you put another case. But 
anyhow it makes no difference. If it lies at the bottom 
of the sea, whether in Railton’s pocket or not, the secret 
is safe. If it is in Colliver’s possession the secret is 
safe, unless he has seen and learnt by heart this half of 
the inscription. In any case, I am sorry to tell you — 
and this is what I was coming to — the secret is closed 
against us for the time.” 

“ That is not certain,” said I. 

“ Excuse me, Jasper, it is quite certain. You admit 
yourself that this writing is nonsense. Well and good. 
But besides this, I would have you remember,” pursued 
Uncle Loveday, turning once more to my father’s 
Journal, “that Ezekiel expressly says, ‘The inscription 
ran right across the clasp/ It could be read easily 
enough and contained accurate directions for searching 
in some spot, but where that spot was it did not 
reveal ” 


174 


DEAD MAN'8 ROCK. 


“ Quite so" I interrupted, “ and that is just what 
we have to discover." 

“ How?" 

u Why, by means of the key, as the parchment and 
the Will plainly show. We may still be beaten, but 
even so, we shall know whereabouts to look, if we can 
only catch Colli ver." 

“ Bless the boy!" said Uncle Loveday, ci he cer- 
tainly has a head." 

“ Uncle," continued I, rising to my feet, “ the 
secret of the Great Ruby is written upon my grand* 
father's key. That key was to be taken down when he 
that undertook the task of discovering the secret should 
have returned and crossed the threshold of Lantrig. 
Uncle, my father has crossed the threshold of Lantrig — " 

“ Feet foremost, feet foremost, my boy. Oh, poor 
Ezekiel ! " 

“ Feet foremost, yes," I continued — “ dead and 
murdered, yes. But he has come : come to find my 
mother dead, but still he has come. Uncle, I am the 
only Trenoweth left to Lantrig ; think of it, the only 
one left " 

“ Poor Ezekiel ! Poor Margery ! " 

‘ f Yes, uncle, and all I inherit is the knife that 
murdered my father, and this key. I have the knife, 
and I will take down the key. We are not beaten 
yet." 

I drew a chair under the great beam, and mounted 
it. When first my grandfather returned he had hung 


I TAKE DOWN THE GREAT KEY. 


175 


the iron key upon its hook, giving strict injunctions 
that no one should touch it. There ever since it had 
hung, the centre of a host of spiders* webs. Even my 
poor mother’s brush, so diligent elsewhere, had never 
invaded this sacred relic, and often during- our lonely 
winter evenings had she told me the story of it : how 
that Amos Trenoweth’s dying curse was laid upon the 
person that should touch it, and how the spiders’ days 
were numbered with every day that brought my father 
nearer home. 

There it hung now, scarcely to be seen for cobwebs. 
Its hour had come at last. Even as I stretched out my 
hand a dozen horrid things hurried tumultuously back 
into darkness. Even as I laid my hand on it, a big 
ungainly spider, scared but half incredulous, started in 
alarm, hesitated, and finally made off at full speed for 
shelter. 

This, then, was the key that should unlock the 
treasure — this, that had from the first hung over us, the 
one un cleansed spot in Lantrig : this was the talisman 
— this grimy thing lying in my hand. The spiders had 
been jealous in their watch. 

Stepping down, I got a cloth and brushed away the 
cobwebs. The key was covered thickly with rust, but 
even so I could see that something was written upon it. 
For about a minute I stood polishing it, and then carried 
it forward to the light. 

Yes, there was writing upon it, both on the handle 
and along the shaft — writing that, as it shaped itself 


176 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


before my eyes, caused them to stare in wrathful in- 
credulity, caused my heart to sink at first in dismay 
and then to swell in mad indignation, caused my blood 
to turn to gall and my thoughts to very bitterness. For 
this was what I read : — 

On the handle were engraved in large capitals the 
initials A. T. with the date MDCCCXII. Along the 
shaft, from handle to wards, ran on either side the 
following sentence in old English lettering : — 

sec rawik c&e 

This was all. This short sentence was the sum of 
all the vain quest on which my father had met his end. 
" Thy house is set upon the sands/' and even now had 
crumbled away beneath Amos Trenoweth's curse. “ Thy 
hopes by a dead man," and even now he on whom our 
hopes had rested, lay upstairs a pitiful corpse. Was 
ever mockery more fiendish ? As the full cruelty of the 
words broke in upon me, once again I seemed to hear 
the awful cry from the sea, but now among its voices 
rang a fearful laugh as though Amos Trenoweth's soul 
were making merry in hell over his grim jest — the 
slaughter of his son and his son’s wife. 

White with desperate passion, I turned and hurled 
the accursed key across the room into the blazing 
hearth. 


END OF BOOK I. 


THE FINDING OF THE GREAT RUBY. 


CHAPTER I. 

TELLS HOW THOMAS LOVEDAY AND I WENT IN SEARCH OP 
FORTUNE. 

Seeing that these pages do not profess to be an auto- 
biography, hut rather the plain chronicle of certain 
events connected with the Great Ruby of Ceylon, I 
conceive myself entitled to the reader's pardon if I do 
some violence to the art of the narrator, and here ask 
leave to pass by, with but slight allusion, some four- 
teen years. This I do because the influence of this 
mysterious jewel, although it has indelibly coloured my 
life, has been sensibly exercised during two periods 
alone — periods short in themselves, but nevertheless 
long enough to determine between them every current 
of my destiny, and to supply an interpretation for my 
every action. 

I am the more concerned with advertising the reader 
of this, as on looking back upon what I have written 
with an eye as far as may be impartial, I have not failed 


278 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


to note one obvious criticism that will be passed upon 
me. “ How/’ it will be asked, “ could any boy barely 
eight years of age conceive the thoughts and entertain 
the emotions there attributed to Jasper Trenoweth ? ” 

The criticism is just as well as obvious. As a soli- 
tary man for ever brooding on the past, I will not deny 
that I may have been led to paint that past in colours 
other than its own. Indeed, it would be little short of 
a miracle were this not so. A morbid soul — and I will 
admit that mine is morbid — preying upon its recollec- 
tions, and nourished on that food alone, cannot hope to 
attain the sense of proportion which is the proper gift 
of varied experience. I readily grant, therefore, that 
the lights and shades on this picture may be wrong, 
as judged by the ordinary eye, but I do claim them 
to be a faithful reproduction of my own vision. As I 
look back I find them absolutely truthful, nor can I 
give the lie to my own impressions in the endeavour to 
write what shall seem true to the rest of the world. 

This must be, therefore, my excuse for asking the 
reader to pass by fourteen years and take up the tale far 
from Lantrig. But before I plunge again into my 
story, it is right that I should briefly touch on the chief 
events that occurred during this interval in my life. 

They buried my father and mother in the same 
grave in Polkimbra Churchyard. I remember now 
that crowds of fisher-folk lined the way to their last 
resting-place, and a host, as it seemed to me, of tear- 
stained faces watched the coffins laid in the earth. 


FOURTEEN YEARS. 


179 


Bat all else is a blurred picture to me, as, indeed, is the 
time for many a long day after. 

Colliver was never found. Captain Merrydew raised 
the hue and cry, but the sailor Georgio Rhodojani was 
never seen again from the moment when his evil face 
leered in through the window of Lantrig. A reward 
was offered, and more than once Polkimbra was excited 
with the news of his arrest, but it all came to nothing. 
Failing his capture, Uncle Loveday was wisely silent on 
the subject of my father's Journal and the secret of the 
Great Ruby. He had not been idle, however. After 
long consultation with Aunt Elizabeth he posted off 
to Plymouth to gain news of Lucy Railton and her 
daughter, but without success. The “ Welcome Home" 
still stood upon the Barbican, but the house was in 
possession of new tenants, and neither they nor their 
landlord could tell anything of the Railtons except that 
they had left suddenly about two months before (that 
being the date of the wreck of the Belle Fortune ) after 
paying their rent to the end of the Christmas quarter. 
The landlord could give no reasons for their departure 
— for the house had a fair trade — but supposed that 
the husband must have returned from sea and taken 
them away. Uncle Loveday, of course, knew better, 
but on this point held his peace. The one result of 
all his inquiries was the certainty that the Railtons 
had vanished utterly. 

So Lantrig, for the preservation of which my father 
had given his life, was sold to strangers, and I went to 


180 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


live with Aunt and Uncle Loveday at Lizard Town. 
The proceeds of the sale (and they were small indeed) 
Uncle Loveday put carefully by until such time as I 
should be cast upon the world to seek my fortune. For 
twelve uneventful years my aunt fed me, and uncle 
taught me — being no mean scholar, especially in Latin, 
which tongue he took great pains to make me perfect in. 
Thomas Loveday was my only companion, and soon 
became my dear friend. Poor Tom ! I can see his 
handsome face before me now as it was in those old days 
— the dreamy eyes, the rare smile with its faint sugges- 
tion of mockery, the fair curls in which a breeze seemed 
for ever blowing, the pursed lips that had a habit of say- 
ing such wonderful things. In my dreams — those few 
dreams of mine that are happy — we are always boys 
together, climbing the cliffs for eggs, or risking our 
lives in Uncle Loveday’s boat — always boys together. 
Poor Tom ! Poor Tom ! 

So the unmarked time rolled on, until there came a 
memorable day in J uly on which I must touch for a 
moment. It was evening. I was returning with Tom 
to Lizard Town from Dead Man’s Rock, where we had 
been basking all the sunny afternoon, Tom reading, and 
I simply staring vacantly into the heavens and wonder- 
ing when the time would come that should set me 
free to unravel the mystery of this ill-omened spot. 
Finally, after taking our fill of idleness, we bathed as 
the sun was setting ; and I remember wondering, as 
I dived off the black ledge, whether beneath me there 


ILL NEWS. 


181 


lay any relic of the Belle Fortune , any fragment that 
might preserve some record of her end. I had dived 
here often enough, but found nothing, nor could I see 
anything to-day but the clean sand twinkling beneath 
its veil of blue, though here, as I guessed, must still 
lie the bones of John Railton. But I must hasten. We 
were returning over the Downs when suddenly I spied 
a small figure running towards us, and making frantic 
signals of distress. 

“ That/' said I, “ from the shape of it, must be Joe 
Roscorla." 

And Joe Roscorla it was, only by no means the Joe 
Roscorla of ordinary life, but a galvanised and gesticu- 
lating Joe, whereas the Joe that we knew was of a 
lethargic bearing and slow habit of speech. Still, it was 
he, and as he came up to us he stayed all questioning 
by gasping out the word “ Missus ! " and then falling 
into a violent fit of coughing. 

“ Well, what is amiss ? " asked Tom. 

“ Took wi' a seizure, an' maister like a thing mazed," 
blurted Joe, and then fell to panting and coughing 
worse than ever. 

“ What ! a seizure ? paralysis do you mean ? " I 
asked, while Tom turned white. 

“ J ust a seizure, and I ha'n't got time for no longer 
name. But run if ’ee want to see her alive." 

We ran without further speech, J oe keeping at our 
side for a minute, but soon dropping behind and fading 
into distance. As we entered the door Uncle Loveday 


182 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


met us, and I saw by bis face that Aunt Elizabeth was 
dead. 

She bad been in the kitchen busied with our supper, 
when she suddenly fell down and died in a few minutes. 
Heart disease was the cause, but in our part people only 
die of three complaints — a seizure, an inflammation, or 
a decline. The difference between these is purely one of 
time, so that Joe Boscorla, learning the suddenness of 
the attack, judged it forthwith a case of “ seizure,” and 
had so reported. 

My poor aunt was dead ; and until now we had 
never known how we loved her. Like so many of the 
Trenoweths she seemed hard and reserved to many, but 
we who had lived with her had learnt the goodness of 
her soul and the sincerity of her religion. The grief of 
her husband was her noblest epitaph. 

He, poor man, was inconsolable. Without his wife 
he seemed as one deprived of most of his limbs, and 
moved helplessly about, as though life were now with- 
out purpose. Accustomed to be ruled by her at every 
turn, he missed her in every action of the day. Very 
swiftly he sank, of no assigned complaint, and within 
six months was laid beside her. 

On his death-bed my uncle seemed strangely troubled 
about us. Tom was to be a doctor. My destiny was 
not so certain ; but already I had renounced in my 
heart an inglorious life in Lizard Town. I longed to go 
with Tom ; in London, too, I thought I should be free 
to follow the purpose of my life. But the question was, 


UNCLE LOVEDAY IS TROUBLED. 


183 


how should I find the money? For I knew that the 
sum obtained by the sale of Lantrig was miserably in- 
sufficient. So I sat with idle hands and waited for 
destiny ; nor did I realise my helplessness until I stood 
in the room where Uncle Loveday lay dying. 

“ Tom/' said my uncle, " Tom, come closer.” 

Tom bent over the bed. 

“ I am leaving you two hoys without friends in this 
world. You have friends in Lizard Town, but Lizard 
Town is a small world, Tom. I ought to have sent you 
to London before, but kept putting off the parting. If 
one could only foresee — could only foresee.” 

He raised himself slightly on his elbow, and con- 
tinued with pain — 

“ You will go to Guy's, and Jasper, I hope, may go 
with you. Be friends, boys ; you will want friendship 
in this world. It will be a struggle, for there is barely 
enough for both. But it is best to share equally ; she 
would have wished that. She was always planning that. 
I am doing it badly, I know, but she would have done 
it better.” 

The chill December sun came stealing in and 
illumined the sick man's face with a light that was the 
shadow of heaven. The strange doctor moved to the 
blind. My uncle's voice arrested him — 

" No, no. Leave it up. You will have to pull it 
down very soon — only a few moments now. Tom, come 
closer. You have been a good boy, Tom, a good hoy, 
though ” — with a faint smile — “ a little trying at tim^s. 


184 ? 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


Ah, but she forgave you, Tom. She loved you dearly ; 
she will tell me so — when we meet.” 

My uncle’s gaze began to wander, as though antici- 
pating that meeting ; hut he roused himself and said — 

“Kiss me, Tom, and send Jasper to me.” 

Bitterly weeping, Tom made room, and I bent over 
the bed. 

a Ah, Jasper, it is you. Kiss me, boy. I have been 
telling Tom that you must share alike. God has been 
stern with you, Jasper, to His own good ends — His own 
good ends. Only be patient, it will come right at the 
last. How dark it is getting ; pull up the blind.” 

“ The blind is up, uncle.” 

“ Ah, yes, I forgot. I have often thought — do you 
remember that day — reading your father’s paper — and 
the key?” 

“ Yes, uncle.” 

“ I have often thought — about that key — which you 
flung into the fire — and I picked out — your father 
Ezekiel’s key — keep it. Closer, Jasper, closer ” 

I bent down until my ear almost touched his lips. 

“ I have — often — thought — we were wrong that 
night — and perhaps — meant — search — in . . .” 

For quite a minute I bent to catch the next word, 
then looking on his face withdrew my arm and laid the 
grey head back upon the pillow. 

My uncle was dead. 

****** 

So it happened that a few weeks after Tom and I, 


MY UNCLE DIES. 


185 


having found Uncle Loveday’s savings equally divided 
between us, started from Lizard Town by coach to seek 
our fortunes in London. In London it is that I must 
resume my tale. Of our early mishaps and mis- 
adventures I need not speak, the result being discernible 
as the story progresses. We did not find our fortunes, 
but we found some wisdom. Neither Tom nor I ever 
confessed to disappointment at finding the pavements 
of mere stone, but certainly two more absolute Whit- 
tingtons never trod the streets of the great city. 

But before I resume I must say a few words of 
myself. No reader can gather the true moral of this 
narrative who does not take into account the effect 
which the cruel death of my parents had wrought on 
me. From the day of the wreck hate had been my 
constant companion, cherished and nursed in my heart 
until it held complete mastery over all other passions. 
I lived, so I told myself over and over again, but to 
avenge, to seek Simon Colliver high and low until I 
held him at my mercy. Thousands of times I rehearsed 
the scene of our meeting, and always I held the knife 
which stabbed my father. In my waking thoughts, in 
my dreams, I was always pursuing, and Colliver for ever 
fleeing before me. In every crowd I seemed to watch 
for his face alone, at every street-corner to listen for his 
voice — that face, that voice, which I should know among 
thousands. I had read De Quincey's “ Opium-Eater/' 
and the picture of his unresting search for his lost Ann 
somehow seized upon my imagination. Night after 


186 


DEAD MA1TS ROCK. 


night it was to Oxford Street that my devil drove me ; 
night after night I paced the “ never-ending terraces/* 
as did the opium-eater, on my tireless quest — but with 
feelings how different! To me it was but one long 
thirst of hatred, the long avenues of gaslight vistas of 
an avenging hell, all the multitudinous sounds of life 
but the chorus of that song to which my footsteps trod — 

“ Sing ho ! but he waits for you.” 

To London had Simon Colliver come, and somewhere, 
some day, he would be mine. Until that day I sought 
a living face in a city of dead men, and down that 
illimitable slope to Holborn, and back again, I would 
tramp until the pavements were silent and deserted, then 
seek my lodging and throw myself exhausted on the bed. 

In a dingy garret, looking out, when its grimy panes 
allowed, above one of the many squalid streets that feed 
the main artery of the Strand, my story begins anew. 
The furniture of the room relieves me of the task of 
word-painting, being more effectively described by cata- 
logue, after the manner of the ships at Troy. It con- 
sisted of two small beds, one rickety washstand, one 
wooden chair, and one tin candlestick. At the present 
moment this last held a flickering dip, for it was ten 
o'clock on the night of May the ninth, eighteen hundred 
and sixty-three. On the chair sat Tom, turning ex- 
citedly the leaves of a prodigiously imposing manuscript. 
I was sitting on the edge of the bed nearest the candle, 
brooding on my hate as usual. 


TOM AND I. 


1S7 


Fortune had evidently dealt us some rough knocks. 
We were dressed, as Tom put it, to suit the furniture, 
and did it to a nicety. We were fed, according to the 
same authority, above our income ; but not often. I 
also quote Tom in saying that we were living rather 
fast : we certainly saw no long prospect before us. In 
short, matters had reached a crisis. 

Tom looked up from his reading. 

“ Do you know, J asper, I could wish that our wash- 
stand had not a hole cut in it to receive the basin. It 
sounds hyper- critical. But really it prejudices me in 
the eyes of the managers. There's a suspicious bulge in 
the middle of the paper that is damning." 

I was absorbed in my own thoughts, and took no 
notice. Presently he continued — 

“ Whittington is an overrated character, don't you 
think ? After all he owed his success to his name. It’s 
a great thing for struggling youth to have a three- 
syllabled name with a proparoxyton accent. I've been 
listening to the bells to-night and they can make nothing 
of Loved ay, while as for Trenoweth, it's hopeless." 

As I still remained silent, Tom proceeded to an- 
nounce — 

“The House will now go into the Question of 
Supply." 

“The Exchequer," I reported, “contains exactly 
sixteen and eightpence halfpenny." 

“ Rent having been duly paid to-day and receipt 
given." 


188 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ Receipt given/' I echoed. 

“ Really, when one comes to think of it, the situa- 
tion is striking. Here are you, Jasper Trenoweth, 
inheritor of the Great Ruby of Ceylon, besides other 
treasure too paltry to mention, in danger of starving 
in a garret. Here am I, Thomas Loveday, author of 
‘ Francesca : a Tragedy,' and other masterpieces too 
numerous to catalogue, with every prospect of sharing 
your fate. The situation is striking, Jasper, you'll 
allow." 

“ What did the manager say about it ? " I asked. 

“ Only just enough to show he had not looked at it. 
He was more occupied with my appearance ; and yet 
we agreed before I set out that your trousers might have 
been made for me. They are the most specious articles 
in our joint wardrobe : I thought to myself as walked 
along to-day, Jasper, that after all it is not the coat 
that makes the gentleman — it's the trousers. Now, in 
the matter of boots, I surpass you. If yours decay at 
their present rate, your walks in Oxford Street will 
become a luxury." 

I was silent again. 

“I do not recollect any case in fiction of a man 
being baulked of his revenge for the want of a pair of 
boots. Cheer up, Jasper, boy," he continued, rising 
and placing a hand on my shoulder. <f We have been 
fools, and have paid for it. You thought you could find 
your enemy in London, and find the hiding-place too 
big. I thought I could write, and find I cannot. As 


I MAKE A PROPOSAL. 


189 


for legitimate work; sixteen and eightpence halfpenny, 
even with economy, will hardly carry us on for three 
years. - ” 

I rose. “ I will have one more walk in Oxford 
Street,” I said, “ and then come home and see this 
miserable farce of starvation out.” 

“ Don't be a fool, Jasper. It is difficult, I know, to 
perish with dignity on sixteen and eightpence half- 
penny : the odd coppers spoil the effect. Still we might 
bestow them on a less squeamish beggar and redeem 
our pride.” 

“Tom,” I said, suddenly, “you lost a lot of money 
once over rouge-et-noir .” 

“ Don’t remind me of that, Jasper.” 

“ No, no ; but where did you lose it ? ” 

“At a gambling hell off Leicester Square. But 
why ” 

“ Should you know the place again ? Could you 
find it?” 

“ Easily.” 

“ Then let us go and try our luck with this miser- 
able sum.” 

“ Don't be a fool, Jasper. What mad notion has 
taken you now ? ” 

“ I have never gambled in my life,” I answered, 
“ and may as well have a little excitement before the 
end comes. It's not much of a sum, as you say ; but 
the thought that we are playing for life or death may 
make up for that. Let us start at once.” 


190 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ It is the maddest folly." 

“Very well, Tom, we will share this. There may 
may be some little difficulty over the halfpenny, but I 
don’t mind throwing that in. We will take half each, 
and you can hoard whilst I tempt fortune." 

“Jasper," said Tom, his eyes filling with tears, 
“you have said a hard thing, but I know you don't 
mean it. If you are absolutely set on this silly freak, 
we will stand or fall together." 

“Very well," said I, “ we will stand or fall together, 
for I am perfectly serious. The six and eightpence 
halfpenny, no more and no less, I propose to spend in 
supper. After that we shall be better prepared to face 
our chance. Do you agree ? " 

“ I agree," said Tom, sadly. 

We took our hats, extinguished the candle, and 
stumbled down the stairs into the night. 

We ordered supper at an eating-house in the Strand, 
and in all my life I cannot recall a merrier meal than 
this, which, for all we knew, would be our last. The 
very thought lent a touch of bravado to my humour, 
and presently Tom caught the infection. It was not a 
sumptuous meal in itself, but princely to our ordinary 
fare ; and the unaccustomed taste of beer loosened our 
tongues, until our mirth fairly astonished our fellow- 
diners. At length the waiter came with the news that 
it was time for closing. Tom called for the bill, and 
finding that it came to half-a- crown apiece, ordered two 
sixpenny cigars, and tossed the odd eightpence half- 


IN SEARCH OF LUCK. 


191 


penny to the waiter, announcing at the same time that 
this was our last meal on earth. This done, he gravely 
handed me four half-crowns, and rose to leave. I rose 
also, and once more we stepped into the night. 

Since the days of which I write, Leicester Square 
has greatly changed. Then it was an intricate, and, by 
night, even a dangerous quarter, chiefly given over to 
foreigners. As we trudged through innumerable by- 
streets and squalid alleys, I wondered if Tom had not 
forgotten his way. At length, however, we turned up 
a blind alley, lit by one struggling gas-jet, and knocked 
at a low door. It was opened almost immediately, and 
we groped our way up another black passage to a second 
door. Here Tom gave three knocks very loud and 
distinct. A voice cried, “ Open,” the door swung back 
before us, and a blaze of light flashed in our faces. 


CHAPTER II. 

TELLS OP THE LUCK OF THE GOLDEN CLASP. 

As the door swung back I became conscious first of a 
flood of light that completely dazzled my eyes, next of 
the buzz of many voices that confused my hearing. By 
slow degrees, however, the noise and glare grew familiar 
and my senses were able to take in the strange scene. 

I stood in a large room furnished after the fashion 
of a drawing-room, and resplendent with candles and 
gilding. The carpet was rich, the walls were hung with 
pictures, which if garish in colour were not tasteless in 
design, and between these glittered a quantity of gilded 
mirrors that caught and reflected the rays of a huge 
candelabrum depending from the centre of the ceiling. 
Innumerable wax candles also shone in various parts of 
the room, while here and there rich chairs and sofas 
were disposed ; but these were for the most part un- 
occupied, for the guests were clustered together beneath 
the great candelabrum. 

They were about thirty in number, and from their 
appearance I judged them to belong to very different 
classes of: society. Some were poorly and even miserably 
attired, others adorned with gorgeous, and not a few 
with valuable, jewellery. Here stood one who from his 


A STRANGE COMPANY. 


193 


clothes seemed to be a poor artisan ; there lounged a 
fop in evening dress. There was also a sprinkling of 
women, and not a few wore masks of some black stuff 
concealing the upper part of their faces. 

But the strangest feature of the company was 
that one and all were entirely and even breathlessly 
watching the table in their midst. Even the idlest 
scarcely raised his eyes to greet us as we entered, and 
for a moment or two I paused at the door as one who 
had no business with this strange assemblage. During 
these few moments I was able to grasp the main points 
of what I saw. 

The guests were grouped around the table, some 
sitting and others standing behind their chairs. The 
table itself was oblong in shape, and at its head sat the 
most extraordinary woman it had ever been my lot to 
behold. She was of immense age, and so wrinkled that 
her face seemed a very network of deeply-printed lines. 
Her complexion, even in the candle-light, was of a deep 
yellow, such as is rarely seen in the most jaundiced 
faces. Despite her age, her features were bold and bore 
traces of a rare beauty outlived; her eyes were of a 
deep yet glittering black, and as they flashed from the 
table to the faces of her guests, seemed never to wink or 
change for an instant their look of intense alertness. 

But what was most noteworthy in this strange 
woman was neither her eyes, her wrinkles, nor her 
curious colour, but the amazing quantity of jewels that 
she wore. As she sat there beneath the glare of the 


194 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


candelabrum she positively blazed with gems. With 
every motion of her quick hands a hundred points of 
fire leapt out from the diamonds on her fingers ; with 
every turn of her wrinkled neck the light played upon 
innumerable facets ; and all the time those cold, lustrous 
eyes scintillated as brightly as the stones. She was en- 
gaged in the game as we entered, and turned her gaze 
upon us for an instant only, but that momentary flash 
was so cold, so absolutely un-human, that I doubted if 
I looked upon reality. The whole assembly seemed 
rather like a room full of condemned spirits, with this 
woman sitting as presiding judge. 

As we still stood by the door a hush fell on the 
company ; men and women seemed to catch their breath 
and bend more intently over the table. There was a 
pause ; then someone called the number “ Thirty-one/' 
and the buzz of voices broke out again — a mixture of 
exclamations and disappointed murmurs. Then, and not 
till then, did the woman at the head of the table speak, 
and when she spoke her words were addressed to us. 

“Come in, gentlemen, come in. You have not 
chosen your moment well, for the Bank is winning ; 
but you are none the less welcome.” 

Her eyes as she turned them again upon us did 
not alter their expression. They were — though I can 
scarcely hope that this description will be understood 
—at once perfectly vigilant and absolutely impassive. 
But even more amazing was the voice that contradicted 
both these impressions, being most sweetly and delicately 


THE YELLOW WOMAN. 


195 


modulated, with a musical ring that charmed the ear 
as the notes of a well-sung song. The others, hearing 
us addressed, turned an incurious gaze upon us for a 
moment, and then fastened their attention anew upon 
the table. 

Thus welcomed, we too stepped forward to the centre 
of the room and began to watch the game. I have 
never seen roulette played elsewhere, so do not know if 
its accessories greatly vary, but this is what I saw. 

The table, which I have described as oblong, was 
lined to the width of about a foot around the edge with 
green baize, and on this were piled heaps of gold and 
silver, some greater, some less. Sunk in the centre was 
a well, in which a large needle revolved upon a pivot at 
a turn of the hand. The whole looked like a large ship's 
compass, but instead of north, south, east, and west, the 
table around the well, and at a level with the compass, 
was marked out into alternate spaces of red and black, 
bearing — one on each space — the figures from 1 to 3G, 
and ending in 0, so that in all there were thirty-seven 
spaces, the one bearing the cipher being opposite to 
the strange woman who presided. As the game began 
again the players staked their money on one or another 
of these spaces. I also gathered that they could stake 
on either black or red, or again on one of the three 
dozens — 1 to 12, 13 to 24, 25 to 36. When all the 
money was staked, the woman bent forward, and with a 
sweep of her arm sent the needle spinning round upon 
its mission. 


196 


DEAD MAN S HOCK. 


Thrice she did this, thrice the eager faces bent over 
the revolving needle, and each time I gathered from the 
murmurs around me that the bank had won heavily. 
At the end of the third round the hostess looked up and 
said to Loveday — 

“ You have been here before, and, if I remember 
rightly, were unfortunate. Come and sit near me when 
you have a chance, and perhaps you may break this 
run of luck. Even I am tiring of it. Or better still, 
get that dark handsome friend of yours to stake for 
you. Have you ever played before ? ” she asked, turn- 
ing to me. 

I shook my head. 

“ All the better. Fortune always favours beginners, 
and if it does I shall be well recompensed to have so 
handsome a youth beside me/' and with this she turned 
to the game again. 

At her right sat a grey-headed man with worn face 
and wolfish eyes, who might have been expected to take 
this as a hint to make way. But he never heard a 
word. All his sense was concentrated on the board be- 
fore him, and his only motion was to bend more closely 
and eagerly over the play. Tom whispered in my ear — 

“ You have the money, Jasper; take her advice if 
you really mean to play this farce out. Take the seat 
if you get a chance, and play your own game.” 

“You have been here before,” I answered, “and 
know more about the game.” 

“ Here before ! Yes, to my cost. No, no, the idea 


I WATCH THE GAME. 


197 


of play is your own and you shall carry it out. I am 
always unlucky, and as for knowledge of the game, 
you can pick that up by watching a round or two ; 
it's perfectly simple.” 

Again the bank had won. At the left hand of our 
hostess stood a stolid man holding a small shovel with 
which he gathered in the winnings. All around were 
faces as of souls in torture ; even the features of the 
winners (and these were few enough) scarcely expressed 
a trace of satisfaction, hut seemed rather cast into some 
horrible trance in which they saw nothing but the piles 
of coin, the spinning needle, and the flashing hands of 
the woman that turned it. She all the while sat pas- 
sionless and cold, looking on the scene as might some 
glittering and bejewelled sphinx. 

As I gazed, as the needle whirled and stopped and 
once more whirled, the mad excitement of the place 
came creeping upon me. The glittering fingers of our 
hostess fascinated me as a serpent holds its prey. The 
stifling heat, the glare, the confused murmurs mounted 
like strong wine into my brain. The clink and gleam 
of the gold as it passed to and fro, the harsh voice of 
the man with the shovel calling at intervals, (i Put on 
your money, gentlemen,” the mechanical progress of 
the play, confused and staggered my senses. I for- 
got Tom, forgot the reason of our coming, forgot even 
where I was, so absorbed was I, and craned forward over 
the hurrying wheel, as intent as the veriest gambler 
present. 


198 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


I was aroused from my stupor by a muttered curse, 
as the grey-headed man before me staggered up from 
his chair, and left the table with desperate eyes and 
stupid gait. As he rose the jewelled fingers made a 
slight motion, and I dropped into the vacant seat. 

The bank was still winning. At our hostess' left 
hand rose a swelling pile of gold and silver that time 
after time absorbed all the smaller heaps upon the black 
and red spaces. Meanwhile the woman had scarcely 
spoken, but as the needle went round once more, slack- 
ened and stopped — this time amid deep and desperate 
execrations — she turned to me and said — 

“ Now is your time to break the bank if you wish. 
Play boldly ; I should like to lose to so proper a man." 

I looked back at Tom, who merely nodded, and put 
my first half-crown upon the red space marked 19. My 
neighbour, without seeming to notice the smallness of 
the sum, bent over the table and sent the wheel spinning 
on its errand. I, too, bent forward to watch, and as 
the wheel halted, saw the coin swept, with many more 
valuable, into the great pile. 

“ A bad beginning," said the sweet voice beside me. 
“ Try again." 

I tried again, and a third time, and two more half- 
crowns went to join their fellow. 

There was one more chance. White with despera- 
tion I drew out my last half-crown, and laid it on the 
black. A flash, and my neighbour's hand sent the 
needle whirling. Round and round it went, as though 


THE BANK WINS. 


199 


it would never cease ; round and round, then slackened, 
slackened, hesitated and stopped — where ? 

Where but over the red square opposite me ? 

For a moment all things seemed to whirl and dance 
before me. The candles shot out a million glancing 
rays, the table heaved, the rings upon the woman's 
fingers glittered and sparkled, while opposite me the 
devilish finger of Fortune pointed at the ruin of my 
hopes, and as it pointed past them and at me, called me 
very fool. 

I clutched the table's green border and sank back in 
my seat. As I did so I heard a low curse from Tom 
behind me. The overwhelming truth broke in upon my 
senses, chasing the blood from my face, the hope from 
my heart. Ruined ! Ruined ! The faces around me 
grew blurred and misty, the room and all my surround- 
ing seemed to fade further and yet further away, leaving 
me face to face with the consequences of my folly. 
Scarce knowing what I did, I turned to look at Tom, 
and saw that his face was white and set. As I did so 
the musical voice beside me murmured — 

“The game is waiting : are you going to stake this 
time ? " 

I stammered out a negative. 

“What? already tired? A faint heart should not 
go with such a face," and again she swept the pointer 
round. 

“ Is it," she whispered in my ear, " is it that you 
cannot?" 


200 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


" It is.” 

“ Ah, it is hard with half-a-sovereign to break the 
bank. But see, have you nothing — nothing? For I 
feel as if my luck were going to leave me.” 

“ Nothing,” I answered, “ nothing in the world.” 

u Poor boy ! ” 

Her voice was tender and sympathetic, but in her 
eyes there glanced not the faintest spark of mercy. I 
sat for a moment stunned and helpless, and then she 
resumed. 

“ Can I lend to you ? ” 

“ No, for I have no chance of repaying. This was 
my all, and it has gone. I have not one penny left in 
the world.” 

“ Poor boy ! ” 

“ I thank you. I could not expect you to pity me, 
but ” 

“ Ah, but you are wrong. I pity you : I pity you 
all. Fools, fools, I call you all, and yet I make my 
living out of you. So you cannot play,” she added, 
as she set the game going once again. “What will 
you do ? ” 

“ Go, first of all.” 

“ And after ? ” 

I shrugged my shoulders. 

“ No, do not go yet. Sit beside me for a while and 
watch : it is only Fortune that makes me your enemy. 
I would willingly have lost to you.” 

She looked so curious, sitting there with her yellow 


YELLOW BLOOD. 


201 


face, her wrinkles and her innumerable diamonds, that I 
could only sit and stare. 

“ I have seen many a desperate boy,” continued this 
extraordinary woman, “ sitting beside me in that very 
chair. Ah, many a young life have I murdered in this 
way. I am old, you see, very old ; older even than you 
could guess, but I triumph over youth none the less. 
Sometimes I feel as if I fed on the young lives of 
others.” 

She delivered these confidences without a change in 
her emotionless face, and still I stared fascinated. 

“ Ah, yes, they sit here for a moment, and then they 
go — who knows where ? You will be going presently, 
and then I shall lose you for ever, without a thought of 
what happens to you. Money is my blood : you see its 
colour in my face. Here they all come, and I suck 
their blood and fling them aside. They win sometimes ; 
but I can wait. I wait and wait, and they come back 
here as surely as there is a destiny. They come back, 
and I win in the end. I always win in the end.” 

She turned her attention to the game for a moment 
and then went on : — 

“ It is a rare drink, this yellow blood : and all the 
sweeter when it comes from youth. I have had but a 
drop from you, but I like you nevertheless. Oh, yes, I 
can pity, my heart is always full of pity as I sit here 
drinking gold. Your friend is a charming boy, but I 
like you better : and now you will go. These partings 
are very cruel, are they not ? ” 


202 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


There was not a trace of mockery in her voice, and 
her eyes were the same as ever. I merely looked up in 
reply, but she divined my thoughts. 

“No, I am not mocking you. I should like you to 
win — once : I say it, and am perfectly honest about it. 
You would he beaten in the end, but it would please me 
while it lasted. Has your friend no money ? ” 

“ No, this was all we had between us/’ 

(t So he came back and got you to play with your 
money. That was strange friendship/' 

“ You are wrong," I answered, “ he was set against 
coming; but I persuaded him — or rather, I insisted. 
It is all my own fault." 

“Well," she said, musingly, " I suppose you must 
go ; but it is a pity. You are too handsome a boy to — 
to do what you will probably do : but the game does 
not regard good looks, or it would fare badly with me. 
Good-bye." 

Still there was no shadow of pity in those unfathom- 
able eyes. I looked into them for a moment, but their 
shining jet revealed nothing below the surface — nothing 
but inexorable calm. 

“ Good-bye," I said, and rose to go, for Tom's hand 
was already on my shoulder. I dared not look in his 

face. All hope was gone now, all wealth, all Stay ! 

I put my fingers in my waistcoat-pocket and drew out 
the Golden Clasp. Worthless to me as any sign of the 
hiding-place of the Great Ruby, it might yet be worth 
something as metal. I had carried it ever since the day 


I STAKE THE CLASP. 


203 


when Uncle Loveday and I read my father’s Journal. 
But what did it matter now ? In a few hours I should 
he beyond the hope of treasure. Might I not just as 
well fling this accursed clasp after the rest ? For aught 
I knew it might yet win something back to me — that 
is, if anyone would accept it as money. At least I 
would try. 

I sank back into my chair again. The woman 
turned her eyes upon me carelessly, and said — 

“ What, hack again so soon ? ” 

“ Yes,” said I, somewhat taken aback by her cold- 
ness, “ if you will give me another chance.” 

“ I give nothing, least of all chance,” she replied. 

“ Well, can you tell me if this is worth anything?” 
As I said this I held out the clasp, which flashed 
brightly as it caught the rays of the large candelabrum 
overhead. She turned her eyes upon it, and as she did 
so, for the first time I fancied I caught a gleam of 
interest within them. It was but a gleam, however, 
and died out instantly as she said — 

“ Let me look at it.” 

I handed it to her. She bent over it for a moment, 
then turned to me and asked — 

“ Is this all of it ? I mean that it seems only one 
half of a clasp. Have you not the other part ? ” 

I shook my head, and she continued — 

“ It is beautifully worked, and seems valuable. Do 
you wish me to buy it ? ” 

“ Not exactly that,” I explained ; “ but if you think 


204 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


it worth anything I should like to stake it against an 
equivalent.” 

“ Very well ; it might he worth three pounds — 
perhaps more : but you can stake it for that if you will. 
Shall it be all at once ? ” 

“Yes, let me have it over at once/’ I said, and 
placed it on the red square marked 13. 

She nodded, and bending over the table, set the 
pointer on its round. 

This time I felt quite calm and cool. All the in- 
toxication of play had gone from me and left my nerves 
steady as iron. As the needle swung round I scarcely 
looked at it, but fell to watching the faces of my fellow- 
gamblers with idle interest. This stake would decide 
between life and death for me, but I did not feel it. 
My passion had fallen upon an anti-climax, and I was 
even yawning when the murmur of many voices, and a 
small pile of gold and silver at my side, announced that 
I had won. 

“ So the luck was changed at last,” said the woman. 
t( Be brave whilst it is with you.” 

In answer I again placed the clasp upon the 
number 13. 

Once more I won, and this time heavily. Tom laid 
his hand upon my shoulder and said, “ Let us go,” but 
I shook my head and went on. 

Time after time I won now, until the pile beside me 
became immense. Again and again Tom whispered in 
m} T ear that we had won enough and that luck would 


THE LUCK OF THE CLASP. 


205 


change shortly, but I held on. And now the others 
surrounded me in a small crowd and began to stake on 
the numbers I chose. Put the clasp where I would the 
needle stopped in front of it. They brought a magnet 
to see if this curious piece of metal had any power of 
attraction, but our hostess only laughed and assured 
them at any rate there was no steel in the pointer, as 
(she added) some of them ought to know by this time. 
When eight times I had put the buckle down and eight 
times had found a fresh heap of coin at my side, she 
turned to me and said — 

“You play bravely, young man. What is your 
name ? ” 

“ Jasper Trenoweth.” 

Again I fancied I caught the gleam in her eyes ; 
and this time it even seemed as though her teeth shut 
tight as she heard the words. But she simply laughed 
a tranquil laugh and said — 

“ A queer-sounding name, that Trenoweth. Is it a 
lucky one ? ” 

“ Never, until now,” said I. 

“Well, play on. It does my heart good, this fight 
between us. But you are careful, I see; why don’t you 
stake your pile as well while this wonderful run lasts ? ’* 

Again Tom's hand was laid upon my shoulder, and 
this time his voice was urgent. But I was completely 
deaf. 

“ As you please,” said I, coldly, and laid the whole 
pile down upon the black. 


206 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


It was madness. It was worse than madness. But 
I w r on again ; and now the heap of my winnings was 
enormous. I glanced at the strange woman ; she sat as 
impassive as ever. 

“ Play/' said she. 

Thrice more I won, and now the pile beside her had 
to be replenished. Yet she moved not a muscle of her 
face, not a lash of her mysterious eyes. 

At last, sick of success, I turned and said — 

“ I have had enough of this. Will it satisfy you if 
I stake it all once more ? " 

Again she laughed. “ You are brave, Mr. Trenoweth, 
and indeed worth the fighting. You may win to-night, 
but I shall win in the end. I told you that I would 
% readily lose to you, and so I will ; but you take me at my 
word with a vengeance. Still, I should like to possess 
that clasp of yours, so let it be once more." 

I laid the whole of my winnings on the red. By 
this time all the guests had gathered round to see the 
issue of this conflict. Not a soul put any money on 
this turn of the wheel, so engrossed were they in the 
duel. Every face was white with excitement, every lip 
quivered. Only we, the combatants, sat unmoved 
— I and the strange woman with the unfathomable 
eyes. 

“Red stands for many things/' said she, as she 
lightly twirled the needle round, “ blood and rubies and 
lovers' lips. But black is the livery of Death, and 
Death shall win them all in the end." 


I BREAK THE BANK. 


207 


As the pointer of fortune circled on its last errand, I 
could catch the stifled breath of the crowd about me, so 
deep was the hush that fell upon us all. I felt Tom's 
hand tighten its clutch upon my shoulder. I heard, or 
fancied I heard, the heart of the man upon my right 
thump against his ribs. I could feel my own pulse 
beating all the while with steady and regular stroke. 
Somehow I knew that I should win, and somehow it 
flashed upon me that she knew it too. Even as the idea 
came darting across my brain, a multitude of pent-up 
cries broke forth from thirty pairs of white lips. I 
scarcely looked to see the cause, but as I turned to our 
hostess her eyes looked straight into mine and her sweet 
voice rose above the din — 

“ Gentlemen, we have played enough to-night. The 
game is over." 

I had broken the bank. 

I stood with Tom gathering up my winnings as the 
crowd slowly melted from the room, and as I did so, 
cast a glance at the woman whom I had thus defeated. 
She was leaning back in her chair, apparently indifferent 
to her losses as to her gains. Only her eyes were 
steadily fixed upon me as I shovelled the coin into my 
pockets. As she caught my eye she pulled out a scrap 
of paper and a pencil, scribbled a few words, tossed the 
note to the man with the shovel, who instantly left the 
room, and said — 

“ Is it far from this place to your home ? " 


208 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


“ Not very.” 

“ That’s well ; but be careful. To win such a sum 
is only less dangerous than to lose it. I shall see you 
again — you and your talisman. By the way, may I 
look at it for a moment ? ” 

We were alone in the room, we three. She took the 
clasp, looked at it intently for a full minute, and then 
returned it. Already the dawn of another day was 
peering in through the chinks in the blinds, giving a 
ghastly faintness to the expiring candles, throwing a 
grey and sickening reality over the scene — the disordered 
chairs, the floor strewn with scraps of paper, the signs 
and relics of the debauchery of play. Ghastlier than all 
was the yellow face of the woman in the pitiless light. 
But there she sat, seemingly untired, in all the splendour 
of her flashing gems, as we left her — a very goddess of 
the gaming-table. 

We had reached the door and were stepping into the 
darkness of the outer passage, when Tom whispered — 

“ Be on your guard ; that note meant mischief.” 

I nodded, swung open the door, and stepped out into 
the darkness. Even as I did so, I heard one quick step 
at my left side, saw a faint gleam, and felt myself 
violently struck upon the chest. For a moment I 
staggered back, and then heard Tom rush past me and 
deal one crashing blow. 

“ Bun, run ! Down the passage, quick ! ” 

In an instant we were tearing through the black 
darkness to the outer door, but in that instant I could 


ATTACKED. 


209 


see, through the open door behind, in the glare of all the 
candles, the figure of the yellow woman still sitting 
motionless and calm. 

We gained the door, and plunged into the bright 
daylight. Up the alley we tore, out into the street, 
across it and down another, then through a perfect maze 
of by-lanes. Tom led and I followed behind, panting 
and clutching my bursting pockets lest the coin should 
tumble out. Still we tore on, although not a footstep 
followed us, nor had we seen a soul since Tom struck my 
assailant down. Spent and breathless at last we emerged 
upon the Strand, and here Tom pulled up. 

“ The streets are wonderfully quiet,” said he. 

I thought for a moment and then said, “ It is 
Sunday morning.” 

Scarcely were the words out of my mouth when I 
heard something ring upon the pavement beside me. I 
stooped, and picked up — the Golden Clasp. 

“ Well,” said I, “this is strange.” 

“Not at all,” said Tom. “Look at your breast- 
pocket.” 

I looked and saw a short slit across my breast just 
above the heart. As I put my hand up, a sovereign, 
and then another, rolled clinking on to the pavement. 

Tom picked them up, and handing them to me, re- 
marked — 

“ Jasper, you may thank Heaven to-day, if you are 
in a mood for it. You have had a narrow escape.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


210 


“ Why, that you would be a dead man now had you 
not carried that piece of metal in your breast-pocket. 
Let me see it for a moment.” 

We looked at it together, and there surely enough, 
almost in the centre of the clasp, was a deep dent. We 
were silent for a minute or so, and then Tom said — 

“ Let us get home. It would not do for us to be 
seen with this money about us.” 

We crossed the Strand, and turned off it to the door 
of our lodgings. There I stopped. 

“Tom, I am not coming in. I shall take a long 
walk and a bathe to get this fearful night out of my 
head. You can take the money upstairs, and put it 
away somewhere in hiding. Stay, I will keep a coin or 
two. Take the rest with you.” 

Tom looked up at the gleam of sunshine that 
touched the chimney-pots above, and decided. 

“Well, for my part, I am going to bed; and so 
will you if you are wise/’ 

“No. I will be back this evening, so let the fatted 
calf be prepared. I must get out of this for a while.” 

“ Where are you going ? ” 

“Oh, anywhere. I don't care. Up the river, 
perhaps.” 

“ You don't wish me to go with you? ” 

“No, I had rather be alone. Tom, I have been a 
fool. I led you into a hole whence nothing but a 
marvellous chance has delivered us, and I owe you an 
apology. And — Tom, I also owe you my life.” 


THE CLASP AGAIN. 


211 


“ Not to me, Jasper ; to the Clasp.” 

“ To you,” I insisted. “ Tom, I have been a 
thoughtless fool, and — Tom, that was a splendid blow 
of yours.” 

He laughed, and ran upstairs, while I turned and 
gloomily sauntered down the deserted street. 


CHAPTER III. 


TELLS AN OLD STORY IN THE TRADITIONAL BANNER. 

When Tom asked me where I was going, I had sug^ 
gested an excursion up the river ; though, to tell the 
truth, this answer had come with the question. Be 
that as it may, the afternoon of that same Sunday found 
me on the left bank of the Thames between Streatley 
and Pangbourne ; found me, with my boat moored idly 
by, stretched on my back amid the undergrowth, and 
easefully staring upward through a trellis-work of 
branches into the heavens. I had been lying there 
a full hour wondering vaguely of my last night's ad- 
venture, listening to the spring-time chorus of the birds, 
lazily and listlessly watching a bough that bent and 
waved its fan of foliage across my face, or the twinkle 
of the tireless kingfisher flashing down-stream in loops 
of light, when a blackbird lit on a branch hard by my 
left hand, and, all unconscious of an audience, began 
to pour forth his rapture to the day. 

Lying there I could spy his black body and yellow 
bill, and drink in his song with dreamy content. So 
sweetly and delicately was he fluting, that by degrees 
slumber crept gently and unperceived upon my tired 


I HEAR A VOICE. 


213 


brain; and as tlie health-giving distillation of the 
melody stole upon my parched senses, I fell into a deep 
sleep. 

* * * * * 

What was that? Music? Yes, but not the song 
of my friend the black-bird, not the mellow note that 
had wooed me to slumber and haunted my dreams. 
Music ? Yes, but the voice was human, and the song 
articulate. I started, and rose upon my elbow to listen. 
The voice was human beyond a doubt — sweetly human : 
it was that of a girl singing. But where ? I looked 
around and saw nobody. Yet the singer could not be 
far off, for the words, though softly and gently sung, 
dwelt clearly and distinctly upon my ear. Still half 
asleep, I sank back again and listened. 

“ Flower of the May, 

Saw ye one pass ? 

* Love passed to-day 
While the dawn was, 

O, but the eyes of him shone as a glass.* ** 

The low, delicate notes came tremulous through the 
thicket. The blackbird was hushed, the trees overhead 
swayed soundlessly, and when the voice fell and paused, 
so deep was the silence that involuntarily I held my 
breath and waited. Presently it broke out again — 

“ Bird of tho thorn, 

WTiat his attire ? 

1 Lo ! it was torn, 

Marred with the mire, 

And but the eyes of him sparkled with fire .* " 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


£14 

Again the voice died away in soft cadences, and again 
all was silence. I rose once more upon my elbow, and 
gazed into the green depths of the wood ; but saw only 
the blackbird perched upon a twig and listening with 
head askew. 

" Flower of the May, 

Bird of the ” 

The voice quivered, trailed off and stopped. I heard 
a rustling of leaves to the right, and then the same voice 
broke out in prose, in very agitated and piteous prose — 
“ Oh, my boat ! my boat ! What shall I do ? ” 

I jumped to my feet, caught a glimpse of something 
white, and of two startled but appealing eyes, then tore 
down to the bank. There, already twenty yards down- 
stream, placidly floated the boat, its painter trailing from 
the bows, and its whole behaviour pointing to a leisurely 
but firm resolve to visit Pangbourne. 

My own boat was close at hand. But when did hot 
youth behave with thought in a like case? I did as 
ninety-nine in a hundred would do. I took off my coat, 
kicked off my shoes, and as the voice cried, “ Oh, please, 
do not trouble," plunged into the water. The refrac- 
tory boat, once on its way, was in no great hurry, and 
allowed itself to be overtaken with great good-humour. 
I clambered in over the stern, caught up the sculls which 
lay across the thwarts, and, dripping but triumphant, 
brought my captive back to shore. 

“ How can I thank you ? " 

If my face was red as I looked up, it must be re- 


HERO AND LEANDER. 


215 


membered that I had to stoop to make the boat fast. If 
my eyes had a tendency to look down again, it must be 
borne in mind that the water from my hair was dripping 
into them. They gazed for a moment, however, and 
this was what they saw : — 

At first only another pair of eyes, of dark grey eyes 
twinkling with a touch of merriment, though full at the 
same time of honest gratitude. It was some time before 
I clearly understood that these eyes belonged to a face, 
and that face the fairest that ever looked on a summer 
day. First, as my gaze dropped before that vision of 
radiant beauty, it saw only an exquisite figure draped in 
a dress of some white and filmy stuff, and swathed 
around the shoulders with a downy shawl, white also, 
across which fell one ravishing lock of waving brown, 
shining golden in the kiss of the now drooping sun. 
Then the gaze fell lower, lighted upon a little foot 
thrust slightly forward for steadiness on the bank's 
verge, and there rested. 

So we stood facing one another — Hero and Leander, 
save that Leander found the effects of his bath more 
discomposing than the poets give any hint of. So we 
stood, she smiling and I dripping, while the blackbird, 
robbed of the song’s ending, took up his own tale anew, 
and, being now on his mettle, tried a few variations. 
So, for all power I had of speech, might we have stood 
until to-day had not the voice repeated — 

“ How can I thank you ? ’* 

I looked up. Yes, she was beautiful, past all 


213 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


criticism — not tall, but in pose and figure queenly 
beyond words. Under the brim of her straw hat the 
waving hair fell loosely, but not so loosely as to hide 
the broad brow arching over lashes of deepest brown. 
Into the eyes I dared not look again, but the lips were 
full and curling with humour, the chin delicately poised 
over the most perfect of necks. In her right hand she 
held a carelessly-plucked creeper that strayed down the 
white of her dress and drooped over the high firm instep. 
And so my gaze dropped to earth again. Pity me. I 
had scarcely spoken to ^ woman before, never to beauty. 
Tongue-tied and dripping I stood there, yet was half 
inclined to run away. 

“And yet, why did you make yourself so wet? 
Have you no boat? Is not that your boat lying 
there under the bank ? " There was an amused tremor 
in the speech. 

Somehow I felt absurdly guilty. She must have 
mistaken my glance, for she went on : — “ Is it that 

you wish ? ” and began to search in the pocket of 

her gown. 

“ No, no,*' I cried, “ not that." 

I had forgotten the raggedness of my clothes, now 
hideously emphasised by my bath. Of course she took 
me for a beggar. Why not? I looked like one. But 
as the thought flashed upon me it brought unutterable 
humiliation. She must have divined something of the 
agony in my eyes, for a tiny hand was suddenly laid on 
my arm and the voice said — 


I AM TONGUE-TIED. 


217 


w Please, forgive me ; I was stupid, and am so sorry/’ 
Forgive her ? I looked up for an instant and now 
her lids drooped in their turn. There was a silence 
between us for a moment or two, broken only by the 
blackbird, by this time entangled in a maze of difficult 
variations. Presently she glanced up again, and the 
grey eyes were now chastely merry. 

“ But it was odd to swim when your boat was close 
at hand, was it not ? ” 

I looked, faltered, met her honest glance, and we 
both broke out into shy laughter. A mad desire to seize 
the little hand that for a moment had rested on my arm 
caught hold of me. 

“ Yes, it was odd,” I answered slowly and with 
difficulty ; “ but it seemed — the only thing to do at the 
time.” 

She laughed a low laugh again. 
u Do you generally behave like that ? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

There was a pause and then I added — 

“ You see, you took me by surprise.” 

“ Where were you when I first called ? ” she asked. 

“ Lying in the grass close by.” 

° Then ” — with a vivid blush — “ you must have — ” 
u Heard you singing ? Yes.” 

“ Oh ! ” 

Again there was a pause, and this time the blackbird 
executed an elaborate exercise with much delicacy and 
finish. The brown lashes drooped, the lovely eyes were 


218 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


bent on the grass, and the little hand swung the creeper 
nervously backward and forward. 

“ Why did you not warn me that I had an 
audience ? ” 

“ Because, in the first place, I was too late. When 
you began I was ” 

“ What ? ” she asked as I hesitated. 

“ Asleep.” 

“ And I disturbed you. I am so sorry.” 

“ I am not.” 

I was growing bolder as she became more embar- 
rassed. I looked down upon her now from my superior 
height, and my heart went out to worship the grace ol 
God's handiwork. With a touch of resentment she 
drew herself up, held out her hand, and said somewhat 
proudly — 

“ I thank you, sir, for this service.” 

I took the hand, but not the hint. It was an 
infinitesimal hand as it lay in my big brown one, and 
yet it stung my frame as with some delicious and 
electric shock. My heart beat wildly and my eyes 
remained fixed upon hers. 

The colour on the fair face deepened a shade : the 
little chin was raised a full inch, and the voice became 
perceptibly icy. 

a I must go, sir. I hope I have thanked you as far 
as I can, and ” 

“ And what?” 

“ Forgive me that I was about to offer you money.” 


I GROW BOLDER. 


219 

The hat's brim bent now, but under it I could see the 
honest eyes full of pain. 

“ Forgive you ! " I cried. “ Who am I to forgive 
you ? You were right : I am no better than a beggar.’' 

The red lips quivered and broke into a smile ; a tiny 
dimple appeared, vanished and reappeared ; the hat's 
brim nodded again, and then the eyes sparkled into 
laughter — 

“ A sturdy beggar, at any rate." 

It was the poorest little joke, but love is not ex- 
acting of wit. Again we both laughed, but this time 
with more relief, and yet the embarrassment that fol- 
lowed was greater. 

“ Must you go ? " I asked as I bent down to pull the 
boat in. 

“ I really must," she answered shyly ; and then as 
she pulled out a tiny watch at her waist — ie Ob ! I am 
late — so late. I shall keep mother waiting and make 
her lose the train. What shall I do ? Oh, pray, sir, be 
quick ! " 

A mad hope coursed through me; I pointed to the 
boat and said — 

“ I have made it so wet. If } r ou are late, better let 
me row you. Where are you going ? " 

“ To Streatley ; but I cannot " 

“ I also am going to Streatley. Please let me row 
you : I will not speak if you wish it." 

Over her face, now so beautifully agitated, swept 
the rarest of blushes. “ Oh no, it is not that, but I 


220 


DEAD MAN S ROCK. 


can manage quite well ” — her manner gave the lie to 
her brave words — “ and I shall not mind the wet." 

“ If I have not offended you, let me row.” 

“ No, no.” 

“ Then I have offended.” 

“ Please do not think so.” 

“ I shall if you will not let me row.” 

Before my persistency she wavered and was con* 
quered. “ But my boat ? ” she said. 

“ I will tow it behind ” — and in the glad success of 
my hopes I allowed her no time for further parley, hut 
ran off for my own boat, tied the two together, and 
gently helped her to her seat. Was ever moment so 
sweet? Did ever little palm rest in more eager hand 
than hers in mine during that one heavenly moment ? 
Did ever heart heat so tumultuously as mine, as I pushed 
the boat from under the boughs and began to row ? 

Somehow, as we floated up the still river, a hush fell 
upon us. She was idly trailing her hand in the stream 
and watching the ripple as it broke and sparkled 
through her fingers. Her long lashes drooped down 
upon her cheek and veiled her eyes, whilst I sat drink- 
ing in her beauty and afraid by a word to break the 
spell. 

Presently she glanced up, met my burning eyes, and 
looked down abashed. 

“ Forgive me, I could not help it.” 

She tried to meet the meaning of that sentence with 
a steady look, but broke down, and as the warm blood 


*1 COULD NOT HELP IT.” 221 

surged across her face, bent her eyes to the water again. 
For myself, I knew of nothing to say in extenuation 
of my speech. My lips would have cried her mercy, 
but no words came. I fell to rowing harder, and the 
silence that fell upon us was unbroken. The sun sank 
and suddenly the earth grew cold and grey, the piping 
of the birds died wholly out, the water-flags shivered 
and whispered before the footsteps of night. Slowly, 
very slowly the twilight hung its curtains around us. 
Swiftly, too swiftly the quiet village drew near, but my 
thoughts were neither of the village nor the night. As I 
sat and pulled silently upwards, life was entirely chang- 
ing for me. Old thoughts, old passions, old aims and 
m usings slipped from me and swept off my soul as tlie 
darkening river swept down into further night. 

“ Streatley ! So soon ! We are in time, then.” 

Humbly my heart thanked her for those words, 
“ So soon.” I gave her my hand to help her ashore, 
and, as I did so, said — 

“ You will forgive me ? w 

“For getting wet in my service? What is there 
to forgive ? ” 

Oh, cruelly kind ! The moon was up now and threw 
its full radiance on her face as she turned to go. My 
eyes were speaking imploringly, but she persisted in 
ignoring their appeal. 

“ You often come here ? n 

“ Oh, no ! Sunday is my holiday ; I am not so idle 
always. But mother loves to come here on Sundays, 


222 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


Ah, how I have neglected her to-day ! " There was a 
world of self-reproach in her speech, and again she 
would have withdrawn her hand and gone. 

" One moment/’ said I, hoarsely. “ Will you — can 
you — tell me your name ? " 

There was a demure smile on her face as the moon 
kissed it, and — 

" They call me Claire/' she said. 

" Claire/' I murmured, half to myself. 

" And yours ? " she asked. 

"Jasper — Jasper Trenoweth." 

"Then good-bye, Mr. Jasper Trenoweth. Good- 
bye, and once more I thank you/' 

She was gone; and standing stupid and alone I 
watched her graceful figure fade into the shadow and 
take with it the light and joy of my life. 

* * * * * 

"Jasper/’ said Tom, as I lounged into our wretched 
garret, " have you ever known what it is to suffer from 
the responsibility of wealth? I do not mean a few 
paltry sovereigns ; but do you know what it is to live 
with, say, three thousand four hundred and sixty-five 
pounds thirteen and sixpence on your conscience ? " 

" No/' I said ; " I cannot say that I have. But 
why that extraordinary sum ? 33 

" Because that is the sum which has been hanging 
all day around me as a mill-stone. Because that is the 
exact amount which at present makes me fear to look 
my fellow-man in the face." 


223 


"they CALL ME CLAIRE." 

I simply stared. 

“ J asper, you are singularly dense, or much success 
has turned your brain. Say, Jasper, that success has 
not turned your brain." 

“ Not that I know of/’ I replied. 

"Very well, then," said Tom, stepping to the bed 
and pulling back the counterpane with much mystery. 
te Oblige me by counting this sum, first the notes, then 
the gold, and finally the silver. Or, if that is too 
much trouble, reflect that on this modest couch recline 
bank-notes for three thousand one hundred and twenty 
pounds, gold sovereigns to the number of three hundred 
and forty-two, whence by an easy subtraction sum we 
obtain a remainder of silver, in value three pounds 
thirteen and sixpence." 

“ But, Tom, surely we never won all that ? " 

“ We did though, and may for the rest of our days 
settle down as comparatively honest medical students. 
So that I propose we have supper, and drink — for I have 
provided drink — to the Luck of the Golden Clasp." 

Stunned with the events of the last twenty-four 
hours, I sat down to table, but could scarcely touch my 
food. Tom’s tongue went ceaselessly, now apologising 
for the fare, now entertaining imaginary guests, and 
always addressing me as a man of great wealth and 
property. 

“ Jasper, ’ he remarked at length, " either you are 
ill, or you must have been eating to excess all day." 

" Neither." 


224 


DEAD MAN S ROCK. 


u Do I gather that you wish to leave the table, and 
pursue your mortal foe up and down Oxford Street ? " 

I shook my head. 

“ What ! no revenge to-night ? No thirst for 
blood ? " 

“ Tom," I replied, solemnly, “ neither to-night nor 
any other night. My revenge is dead." 

“ Dear me ! when did it take place ? It must have 
been very sudden.” 

" It died to-day." 

“ Jasper,” said Tom, laying his hand on my shoul- 
der, “ either wealth has turned your brain, or most 
remarkably given you sanity." 


CHAPTER IV. 


TELLS HOW I SAW THE SHADOW OP THE ROCK ; AND HOW 
I TOLD AND HEARD NEWS. 

A week passed, and in the interval Tom and I made 
several discoveries. In the first place, to our great 
relief, we discovered that the bank-notes were received 
in Threadneedle Street without question or demur. 
Secondly, we found our present lodgings narrow, and 
therefore moved westward to St. James's. Further, it 
struck us that our clothes would have to conform to the 
“ demands of more Occidental civilisation," as Tom put 
it, and also that unless we intended to be medical 
students for ever it was necessary to become medical 
men. Lastly, it began to dawn upon Tom that 
“ Francesca : a Tragedy" was a somewhat turgid per- 
formance, and on me that a holiday on Sunday was 
demanded by six days of work. 

I do not know that we displayed any remarkable 
interest in the Materia Medica y or that the authorities 
of Guy's looked upon us as likely to do them any sin- 
gular credit. But Tom, who had now a writing-desk, 
made great alterations in “ Francesca," while I consumed 
vast quantities of tobacco in the endeavour to reproduce 
a certain face in my note-book ; and I am certain that 


226 


DEAD S ROCK. 


the resolution to take a holiday on Sunday was as strong 
at the end of the first week as though I had wrought 
my faculties to the verge of brain fever. 

I did not see her on that Sunday, or the next, 
though twice my boat explored the river between 
Goring and Panghourne from early morning until 
nightfall. But let me hasten over heart-aching and 
bitterness, and come to the blessed Sunday when for a 
second time I saw my love. 

Again the day w T as radiant with summer. Above, 
the vaulted blue arched to a capstone of noonday gold. 
Hardly a fleecy cloud troubled the height of heaven, 
or blotted the stream's clear mirror ; save here and there 
where the warm air danced and quivered over the still 
meadows, the season's colour lay equal upon earth. 
Before me the river wound silently into the sunny 
solitude of space untroubled by sight of human form. 

But what was that speck of white far down the 
bank — that brighter spot upon the universal brightness, 
moving, advancing ? My heart gave one great leap ; 
in a moment my boat's bows were high upon the 
crumbling bank, and I was gazing down the tow-path. 

Yes, it was she! From a thousand thousand I could 
tell that perfect form as it loitered — how slowly — up the 
river's verge. Along heaven's boundary the day was lit 
with glory for me, and all the glory but a golden frame 
for that white speck so carelessly approaching. Still and 
mute I stood as it drew nearer — so still, so mute, that 
a, lazy pike thrust out its wolfish jaws just under my 


A SECOND TIME. 


227 


feet and, seeing* me, splashed under again in great dis- 
composure ; so motionless that a blundering swallow all 
hut darted against me, then swept curving to the water, 
and vanished down the stream. 

She had been gathering May-blossom, and held a 
cluster in one hand. As before, her gown was purest 
white, and, as before, a nodding hat guarded her fair face 
jealously. 

Nearer and nearer she came, glanced carelessly at me 
who stood bare-headed in the sun's glare, was passing, 
and glanced again, hesitated for one agonising moment, 
and then, as our eyes met, shot out a kindly flash of 
remembrance, followed by the sweetest of little blushes. 

“ So you are here again," she said, as she gave her 
hand, and her voice made exquisite music in my ear. 

“ Again ? " I said, slowly releasing her fingers as a 
miser might part with treasure. “ Again ? I have 
been here every Sunday since." 

“ Dear me ! is it so long ago ? Only three weeks 
after all. I remember, because " 

The fleeting hope possessed me that it might be 
some recollection in which I had place, but my illusion 
was swiftly shattered. 

“ Because/’ the pitiless sentence continued, “ mother 
was not well that evening ; in fact, she has been ill 
ever since. So it is only three weeks." 

“ Only three weeks ! " I echoed. 

“ Yes," she nodded. “ I have not seen the river for 
all that time. Is it changed ? " 


228 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ Sadly changed." 

“ How?" 

“ Perhaps I have changed." 

“Well, I hope so/’ she laughed, “ after that wet* 
ting/’ then, seeing an indignant flash in my eyes, she 
added quickly, “which you got by so kindly bringing 
back my boat." 

“ You have not been rowing to day?" 

“No; see, I have been gathering the last of the 
May-blossom. May is all but dead." 

“ And ‘ Flower of the May ' ? " 

“ Please do not remind me of that foolish song. Had 
I known, I would not have sung it for ‘worlds." 

“ I would not for worlds have missed it." 

Again she frowned and now turned to go. “And 
you, too, must make these speeches ! " 

The world of reproach in her tone was at once gall 
and honey to me. Gall, because the “you too" conjured 
up a host of jealous imaginings ; honey, because it was 
revealed that of me she had hoped for better. And now 
like a fool I had flung her good opinion away and she 
was leaving me. 

I made a half- step forward. 

“ I must go now," she said, and the little hand was 
held out in token of farewell. 

“No! no! I have offended you." 

No answer. 

“I have offended you," I insisted, still holding her 
hand. 


229 


"trust mb." 

(t I forgive you. But, indeed, I must go/’ The 
hand made a faint struggle to be free. 

“Why?” 

My voice came hard and unnatural. I still held the 
fingers, and as I did so, felt the embarrassment of utter 
shyness pass over the bridge of our two hands and 
settle chokingly upon my heart. 

u Why?” I repeated, more hoarsely yet. 

“ Because — because I must not neglect mother again. 
She is waiting.” 

“ Then let me go with you.” 

“ Oh, no I Some day — if we meet — I will introduce 
you.” 

“Why not now?” 

“ Because she is not well.” 

Even my lately-acquired knowledge of the Materia 
Medica scarcely warranted me in offering to cure her. 
But I did. 

She laughed shyly and said, “ How, sir ; are you a 
doctor?” 

“Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, gentleman, apothe- 
cary,” I said lightly, “neither one nor the other, but 
that curious compound of the two last — a medical 
student.” 

“ Then I will not trust you,” she answered, smiling. 

“Better trust me,” I said ; and something in my 
words again made her look down. 

“You will trust me? ” I pleaded, and the something 
in my words grew plainer. 


230 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


Still no answer. 

“Oh, trust me V 9 

The hand quivered in mine an instant, the eyes 
looked up and laughed once more. “I will trust you/' 
she said — “not to move from this spot until I am out 
of sight." 

Then with a light " Good-bye" she was gone, and I 
was left to vaguely comprehend my loss. 

Before long I had seen her a third time and yet once 
again. I had learnt her name to be Luttrell — Claire 
Luttrell; how often did I not say the words over to my- 
self ? I had also confided in Tom and received his hearty 
condolence, Tom being in that stage of youth which 
despises all of which it knows nothing — love especially, 
as a thing contrary to nature’s uniformity. So Tom 
was youthfully cynical, and therefore hy strange infer- 
ence put on the airs of superior age ; was also sceptical 
of my description, especially a certain comparison of 
her eyes to stars, though a very similar trope occurred 
somewhere in the tragedy. Indeed therein Francesca's 
eyes were likened to the Pleiads, being apparently (as I 
pointed out with some asperity) seven in number, and 
one of them lost. 

I had also seen Mrs. Luttrell, a worn and timid 
woman, with weak blue eyes and all the manner of the 
professional invalid. I say this now, but in those days 
she was in my eyes a celestial being mysteriously clothed 
in earth’s infirmities — as how should the mother of Claire 
be anything else ? Somehow I won the favour of this 


▲ GOLDEN SUMMER. 


231 


faded creature — chiefly, I suspect, because she liked so 
well to be left alone. All day long she would sit con- 
tentedly watching the river and waiting for Claire, yet 
only anxious that Claire should he happy. All her heart 
centred on her child, and often, in spite of our friendli- 
ness, I caught her glancing from Claire to me with a 
jealous look, as though the mother guessed what the 
child suspected hut dimly, if at all. 

So the summer slipped away, all too fleetly — to me, 
as I look back after these weary years, in a day. But 
nevertheless much happened: not much that need be 
written down in bald and pitiless prose, but much to 
me who counted and treasured every moment that held 
my darling near me. So the Loves through that golden 
season wound us round with their invisible chains and 
hovered smiling and waiting. So we drifted week after 
week upon the river, each time nearer and nearer to 
the harbour of confession. The end was surely coming, 
and at last it came. 

It was a gorgeous August evening. A week before 
she had told me that Saturday would be a holiday for 
her, and had, when pressed, admitted a design of spend- 
ing it upon the river. Need it be confessed that 
Saturday saw me also in my boat, expectant? And 
when she came and feigned pretty astonishment at 
meeting me, and scepticism as to my doing any work 
throughout the week, need I say the explanation took 
time and seemed to me best delivered in a boat ? At 
any rate, so it was ; and somehow, the explanation took 


232 


DEAD MAN S ROCK. 


such a vast amount of time, that the sun was already 
plunging* down the western slope of heaven when we 
stepped ashore almost on the very spot where first I had 
heard her voice. 

As the first film of evening came creeping over 
earth, there fell a hush between us. A blackbird — ■ 
the same, I verily believe — took the opportunity to wel- 
come us. His note was no longer full and unstudied 
as in May. The summer was nearly over, and with it 
his voice was failing ; but he did his best, and something 
in the hospitality of his song prompted me to break the 
silence. 

“ This is the very spot on which we met for the first 
time — do you remember?” 

“Of course I remember,” was the simple answer. 

“You do?” I foolishly burned to hear the assur- 
ance again. 

“Of course — it was such a lovely day.” 

“ A blessed day,” I answered, “the most blessed of 
my life.” 

There was a long pause here, and even the blackbird 
could hardly fill it up. 

“ Do you regret it?” 

(Why does man on these occasions ask such a heap 
of questions ?) 

“Why should I?” 

(Why does woman invariably answer his query with 
another ?) 

“I hope there is no reason,” I answered, “and yet — 


I AM CHANGED. 


233 


oh, can you not see of what that day was the beginning ? 
Can you not see whither these last four months have 
carried me ? " 

The sun struck slanting on the water and ran in 
tapering lustre to our feet. The gilded ripple slipped 
and murmured below us ; the bronzed leaves overhead 
bent carefully to veil her answer. The bird within the 
covert uttered an anxious note. 

“They have carried you, it seems,” she answered, 
with eyes gently lowered, “back to the same place.” 

“ They have carried me,” I echoed, “ from spring to 
summer. If they have brought me back to this spot, it 
is because the place and I have changed — Claire ! ” 

As I called her by her Christian name she gave one 
quick glance, and then turned her eyes away again. I 
could see the soft rose creeping over her white neck and 
cheek. Had I offended? Between hope and despera- 
tion, I continued — 

“Claire — I will call you Claire, for that was the 
name you told me just four months ago — I am changed, 
oh, changed past all remembrance ! Are you not changed 
at all ? Am I still nothing to you ? " 

She put up her hand as if to ward off further speech, 
but spoke no word herself. 

“Answer me, Claire; give me some answer if only a 
word. Am I still no more than the beggar who rescued 
your boat that day ? ” 

“Of course, you are my friend — now. Please for- 
get that I took you for a beggar.” 


234 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


The words came with effort. Within the hushes the 
blackbird still chirped expectant, and the ripple below 
murmured to the bank, “The old story — the old story.” 

“ But I am a beggar,” I broke out. “ Claire, I am 
always a beggar on my knees before you. Oh, Claire ! ” 
Her face was yet more averted — the sun kissed her 
waving locks with soft lips of gold, the breeze half 
stirred the delicate draperies around her. The black- 
bird’s note was broken and halting as my own speech. 

“ Claire, have you not guessed? will you never 
guess ? Oh, have pity on me ! ” 

I could see the soft bosom heaving now. The little 
hand was pulling at the gown. Her whole sweet shape 
drooped away from me in vague alarm — but still no 
answer came. 

“ Courage ! Courage ! 99 chirped the bird, and the 
river murmured responsive, “ Courage ! ” 

“ Claire!” — and now there was a ring of agony in 
the voice ; the tones came alien and scarcely recognised — 
Claire, I have watched and waited for this day, and 
now that it has come, for good or for evil, answer me^ 
I love you ! ” 

O time-honoured and most simple of propositions ! 
“ I love you ! ” Night after night had I lain upon my 
bed rehearsing speeches, tender, passionate and florid, 
and lo ! to this had it all come — to these three words, 
which, as my lips uttered them, made my heart leap in 
awe of their crude and naked daring. 

And she? The words, as though they smote her. 


" CLAIRE ! 99 


235 


chased for an instant the rich blood from her cheek. 
For a moment the bosom heaved wildly, then the colour 
came slowly back, and ebbed again. A soft tremor 
shook the bending form, the little hand clutched the 
gown, but she made no answer. 

“ Speak to me, Claire ! I love you ! With my life 
and soul I love you. Can you not care for me ? ” I 
took the little hand. “ Claire, my heart is in your 
hands — do with it what you will, but speak to me. 
Can you not — do you not — care for me ? ” 

The head drooped lower yet, the warm fingers 
quivered within mine, then tightened, and — 

What was that whisper, that less than whisper, for 
which I bent my head ? Had I heard aright ? Or why 
was it that the figure drooped closer, and the bird’s 
note sprang up jubilant ? 

“ Claire ! " 

A moment — one tremulous, heart-shaking moment 
— and then her form bent to me, abandoned, conquered ; 
her face looked up, then sank upon my breast; but 
before it sank I read upon it a tenderness and a passion 
infinite, and caught in her eyes the perfect light of 
love. 

As the glory of delight came flooding on my soul, 
the sun’s disc dropped, and the first cold shadow of 
night fell upon earth. The blackbird uttered a broken 
“ Amen/' and was gone no man knew whither. The 
golden ripple passed up the river, and vanished in a 
leaden grey. One low shuddering sigh swept through 


236 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


the trees, then all was dumb. I looked westward. 
Towards the horizon the blue of day was fading down- 
wards through indistinguishable zones of purple, ame- 
thyst, and palest rose, the whole heaven arching in one 
perfect rainbow of love. 

But while I looked and listened to the beating of 
that beloved heart girdled with my arm, there grew a 
something on the western sky that well-nigh turned my 
own heart to marble. At first, a lightest shadow — a 
mere breath upon heaven's mirror, no more. Then as 
I gazed, it deepened, gathering all shadows from around 
the pole, heaping, massing, wreathing them around one 
spot in the troubled west — a shape that grew and 
threatened and still grew, until I looked on — what ? 

Up from the calm sea of air rose one solitary 
island, black and looming, rose and took shape and 
stood out — the very form and semblance of Dead Man's 
Bock ! Sable and real as death it towered there against 
the pale evening, until its shadow, falling on my heart 
itself and on the soft brown head that bent and nestled 
there, lay round us clasped so, and with its frown 
cursed the morning of our love. 

Something in my heart's beat, or in the stiffening of 
my arm, must have startled my darling, for as I gazed 
I felt her stir, and, looking down, caught her eyes 
turned wistfully upwards. My lips bent to hers. 

“ Mine, Claire ! Mine for ever ! " 

And there, beneath the shadow of the Bock, our 
lips drew closer, met, and were locked in their first kiss, 


THE SHADOW OF THE ROCK. 


237 


When I looked up again the shadow had vanished, 
and the west was grey and clear. 

So in the tranquil evening we rowed homewards, 
our hearts too full for speech. The wan moon rose 
and trod the waters, but we had no thoughts, no eyes 
for her. Our eyes were looking into each others 
depths, our thoughts no thoughts at all, but rather a 
dazzled and wondering awe. 

Only as a light or two gleamed out, and Streatley 
twinkled in the distance, Claire said — 

“ Can it be true ? You know nothing of me.” 

“ I know you love me. What more should I know, 
or wish to know ? ” 

The red lips were pursed in a manner that spoke 
whole tomes of wisdom. 

“You do not know that I work for my living all 
the week ? ” 

“ When you are mine you shall work no more.” 

“ f But sit on a cushion and sew a gold seam ’ ? 
Ah, no; I have to work. It is strange,” she said, 
musingly, u so strange.” 

“ What is strange, Claire ? ” 

“ That you have never seen me except on my holi- 
days — that we have never met. What have you done 
since you have been in London ? ” 

I thought of my walks and tireless quest in Oxford 
Street with a kind of shame. That old life was severed 
from the present by whole worlds. 


238 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ I have lived very quietly/' I answered. “ But is 
it so strange that we have never met ? " 

She laughed a low and musical laugh, and as the 
boat drew shoreward and grounded, replied — 

“ Perhaps not. Come, let us go to mother — 
Jasper/' 

O sweet sound from sweetest lips ! We stepped 
ashore, and hand-in-hand entered the room where her 
mother sat. 

As she looked up and saw us standing there to- 
gether, she knew the truth in a moment. Her blue 
eyes filled with sudden fear, her worn hand went up- 
wards to her heart. Until that instant she had not 
known of my presence there that day, and in a flash 
divined its meaning. 

“ I feared it," she answered at length, as I told my 
story and stood waiting for an answer. u I feared it, 
and for long have been expecting it. Claire, my love, 
are you sure? Oh, be quite sure before you leave 
me." 

For answer, Claire only knelt and flung her white 
arms round her mother's neck, and hid her face upon 
her mother's bosom. 

“ You love him now, you think ; but, oh, be careful. 
Search your heart before you rob me of it. I have 
known love, too, Claire, or thought I did ; and indeed 
it can fade — and then, what anguish, what anguish ! " 

“ Mother, mother ! I will never leave you." 

Mrs. Luttrell sighed. 


MRS. LUTTRELL. 


239 


rr Ah, child, it is your happiness I am thinking of.” 

“ I will never leave you, mother.” 

“ And you, sir, ” continued Mrs. Luttrell, “ are you 
sure ? I am giving you what is dearer than life itself ; 
and as you value her now, treat her worthily hereafter. 
Swear this to me, if my gift is worth so much in your 
eyes. Sir, do you know ” 

“ Mother I ” 

Claire drew her mother's head down towards her 
and whispered in her ear. Mrs. Luttrell frowned, hesi- 
tated, and finally said — 

“ Well, it shall be as you wish — though I doubt if it 
be wise. God bless you, Claire — and you, sir ; but oh, 
be certain, be certain ! 99 

What incoherent speech I made in answer I know 
not, but my heart was sore for this poor soul. Claire 
turned her eyes to me and rose, smoothing her mother's 
grey locks. 

“ We will not leave her, will we ? Tell her that we 
will not.” 

I echoed her words, and stepping to Mrs. Luttrell, 
took the frail, white hand. 

“ Sir,” she said, “ you who take her from me should 
be my bitterest foe. Yet see, I take you for a son.” 

***** 

Still rapt with the glory of my great triumph, and 
drunk with the passion of that farewell kiss, I walked 
into our lodgings and laid my hand on Tom's shoulder. 


240 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ Tom, I have news for you." 

Tom started up. “ And so have I for you.’* 

“ Great news." 

“ Glorious news ! " 

“ Tom, listen : I am accepted." 

“ Bless my soul ! Jasper, so am I." 

“ You?" 

“Yes." 

“ When ? Where ? " 

“ This afternoon. Jasper, our success has come at 
last : for you the Loves, for me the Muses ; for you the 
rose, for me the bay. Jasper, dear boy, they have learnt 
her worth at last." 

“Her! Who?" 

“Francesca. Jasper, in three months I shall he 
famous ; for next November “ Francesca : a Tragedy " 
will be produced at the Coliseum. 


CHAPTER V. 


TELLS HOW THE CURTAIN ROSE UPON “ FRANCESCA : 

A TRAGEDY.'* 

Again my story may hurry, for on the enchanted 
weeks that followed it would weary all but lovers 
to dwell, and lovers for the most part find their own 
matters sufficient food for pondering. Tom was busy 
with the rehearsals at the Coliseum, and I, being left 
alone, had little taste for the Materia Medica . On 
Sundays only did I see Claire ; for this Mrs. Luttrell 
had stipulated, and my love, too, most mysteriously 
professed herself busy during the week. As for me, it 
was clear that before marriage could be talked of I 
must at least have gained my diplomas, so that the more 
work I did during the week the better. The result of 
this was a goodly sowing of resolutions and very little 
harvest. In the evenings, Tom and I would sit to- 
gether — he tirelessly polishing and pruning the tragedy, 
and I for the most part smoking and giving advice 
which I am bound to say in duty to the author (“ Fran- 
cesca ” having gained some considerable fame since those 
days) was invariably rejected. 

Tom had been growing silent and moody of late — 
a change for which I could find no cause. He would 
answer my questions at random, pause in his work to 


242 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


gaze long and intently on the ceiling, and altogether 
behave in ways unaccountable and strange. The play 
had been written at white-hot speed : the corrections pro- 
ceeded at a snail’s pace. The author had also fallen into 
a habit of bolting his meals in silence, and, when rebuked, 
of slowly bringing his eyes to bear upon me as a person 
whose presence was until the moment unsuspected. All 
this I saw in mild wonder, but I reflected on certain 
moods of my own of late, and held my peace. 

The explanation came without my seeking. We 
were seated together one evening, he over his everlasting 
corrections, and I in some especially herbaceous nook of 
the Materia Meclica, when Tom looked up and said — 

“ Jasper, I want your opinion on a passage. Listen 
to this.” 

Sick of my flowery solitude, I gave him my atten- 
tion while he read : — 

“ She is no violet to veil and hide 
Before the lusty sun, but as the flower, 

His best-named bride, that leaneth to the light 
And images his look of lordly love — 

Yet how I wrong her. She is more a queen 
Than he a king ; and whoso looks must kneel 
And worship, conscious of a Sovranty 
Undreamt in nature, save it be the Heaven 
That minist’ring to all is queen of all, 

And wears the proud sun’s self but as a gem 
To grace her girdle, one among the stars. 

Heaven is Francesca, and Francesca Heaven. 

Without her, Heaven is dispossessed of Heaven, 

And Earth, discrowned and disinherited, 

Shall beg in black eclipse, until her eyes ” 


TOM STATES HIS VIEWS. 


243 


ft Stay/* I interrupted, “ unless I am mistaken her 
eyes are like the Pleiads, a simile to which I have more 
than once objected .” 

“ If you would only listen you would find those lines 
cut out/' said Tom, pettishly. 

“ In that case I apologise : nevertheless, if that is 
your idea of a Francesca, I confess she seems to me a 
trifle — shall we say ? — massive.” 

“ Your Claire, I suppose, is stumpy ? ” 

“ My Claire,” I replied with dignity, “ is neither 
stumpy nor stupendous.” 

“ In fact, just the right heigh t.” 

“ Well, yes, just the right height.” 

Tom paid no attention, but went on in full career — 
“ I hate your Griseldas, your Jessamys, your Mary 

Anns; give me Semiramis, Dido, Joan of ” 

“ My dear Tom, not all at once, I hope.” 

“ Bah ! you are so taken up with your own choice, 
that you must needs scoff at anyone who happens to 
differ. I tell you, woman should be imperial, majestic; 
should walk as a queen and talk as a goddess. You 
scoff because you have never seen such ; you shut your 
eyes and go about saying, ( There is no such woman/ 

By heaven, Jasper, if you could only see ” 

At this point Tom suddenly pulled up and blushed 
like any child. 

“ Go on — whom shall I see ? ” 

Tom's blush was beautiful to look upon. 
ts The Lambert, for instance ; I meant ” 


244 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ Who is the Lambert? ” 

“Do you mean to say you have never heard of 
Clarissa Lambert, the most glorious actress in London ? ” 

“ Never. Is she acting at the Coliseum ? ” 

“ Of course she is. She takes Francesca. Oh, J asper, 
you should see her, she is divine ! ” 

Here another blush succeeded. 

“So,” I said after a pause, “you have taken upon 
yourself to fall in love with this Clarissa Lambert.” 

Tom looked unutterably sheepish. 

“ Is the passion returned ? ” 

“Jasper, don't talk like that and don't be a fool. 
Of course I have never breathed a word to her. Why, 
she hardly knows me, has hardly spoken to me beyond 
a few simple sentences. How should I, a miserable 
author without even a name, speak to her ? Jasper, do 
you like the name Clarissa ? '' 

“ Not half so well as Claire.” 

“ Nonsense ; Claire is well enough as names go, but 
nothing to Clarissa. Mark how the ending gives it 
grace and quaintness ; what a grand eighteenth-century 
ring it has ! It is superb — so sweet, and at the same 
time so stately.” 

“ And replaces Francesca so well in scansion.” 

Tom's face was confession. 

“You should see her, Jasper — her eyes. What 
colour are Claire's ?” 

“ Deep grey.” 

“ Clarissa’s are hazel brown : I prefer brown ; in fact 


tom’s confession. 


245 


I always thought a woman should have brown eyes ; we 
won't quarrel about inches, but you will give way in 
the matter of eyes, will you not ? " 

“ Not an inch/' 

“ It really is wonderful/' said Tom, “ how the mere 
fact of being in love is apt to corrupt a man's taste. 
Now in the matter of voice — I dare wager that your 
Claire speaks in soft and gentle numbers." 

“ As an iEolian harp," said I, and I spoke truth. 

“ Of course, unrelieved tenderness and not a high 
note in the gamut. But you should hear Clarissa ; I 
only ask you to hear her once, and let those glorious 
accents play upon your crass heart for a moment or 
two. O Jasper, Jasper, it shakes the very soul! " 

Tom was evidently in a very advanced stage of the 
sickness; I could not find it in my heart to return his 
flouts of a month before, so I said — 

“ Very well, my dear Tom, I shall look upon your 
divinity in November. I do not promise you she will 
have the effect that you look forward to, but I am glad 
your Francesca will be worthily played ; and, Tom, I am 
glad you are in love ; I think it improves you." 

" It is hopeless — absolutely hopeless ; she is cold 
as ice." 

“ What, with that voice and those eyes ? Nonsense, 
man." 

“ She is cold as ice," groaned poor Tom ; (t every- 
one says so." 

“ Of course everyone says so ; you ought to he glad 


246 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


of that, for this is the one point on which what every- 
one says must from the nature of things be false. 
Why, man, if she beamed on the whole world, then I 
might believe you.” 

From which it will be gathered that I had learned 
something from being in love. 

***** 

So sad did I consider Tom's case, that I spoke to 
Claire about it when I saw her next. 

“ Claire," I said, “ you have often heard me speak 
of Tom." 

“ Beally, Jasper, you seldom speak of anybody else. 
In fact I am growing quite jealous of this friend." 

After the diversion caused by this speech, I resumed — 

“ But really Tom is the best of fellows, and if I talk 
much of him it is because he is my only friend. You 
must see him, Claire, and you will be sure to like him. 
He is so clever ! " 

“ What is the name of this genius — I mean the other 
name ? " 

“ Why, Loveday, of course — Thomas Loveday. Do 
you mean to say I have never told you ? " 

“ Never," said Claire, meditatively. “ Loveday — 
Thomas Loveday — is it a common name ? " 

“ No, I should think not very common. Don't you 
like it?" 

“ It — begins well." 

Here followed another diversion. 

u But what I was going to say about Tom," I 


CLAIRE IS VERY PALE. 


247 


continued, " is this — he has fallen in love ; in fact, I 
have never seen a man so deeply in love.” 

“ Oh!” 

(< Anyone else,” I corrected, “ for of course I was 
quite as bad ; you understand that.” 

“ We were talking of Thomas Loveday.” 

" Oh, yes, of Tom. Well, Tom, you know — or per- 
haps you do not. At any rate, Tom has written a 
tragedy.” 

“ All about love ? ” 

“Well, not quite all; though there is a good deal 
in it, considering it was written when the author had no 
idea of what the passion was like. But that is not the 
point. This tragedy is coming out at the Coliseum in 
November. Are you not well, Claire ? ” 

“ Yes, yes ; go on. What has all this to do with 
Tom's love ? ” 

“ I am coming to that. Tom, of course, has been 
attending the rehearsals lately. He will not let me 
come until the piece is ready, for he is wonderfully 
nervous. I am to come and see it on the first night. 
Well, as I was saying, Tom has been going to re- 
hearsals, and has fallen in love with — guess with 
whom.” 

Claire was certainly getting very white. 

il Are you sure you are well, Claire ? ” I asked, 
anxiously. 

“ Oh, yes ; quite sure. But tell me with whom — 
how should I guess ? ” 


248 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ Why, with the leading actress ; one Clarissa 
Lambert, is it not ? " 

“ Clarissa — Lambert ! " 

“ Why, Claire, what is the matter ? Are you 
faint?" For my love had turned deathly pale, and 
seemed as though she would faint indeed. 

We were in the old spot so often revisited, though 
the leaves were yellowing fast, and the blackbird's note 
had long ceased utterly. I placed my arm around her 
for support, but my darling unlocked it after a moment, 
struggled with her pallor, and said — 

“ No, no; I am better. It was a little faintness, but 
is passing off. Go on, and tell me about Mr. Loveday." 

“ I am afraid I bored you. But that is all. Do 
you know this Clarissa Lambert ? Have you seen 
her?" 

“ Yes — I have seen her." 

“ I suppose she is very famous ; at least, Tom says 
so. He also says she is divine ; but I expect, from his 
description, that she is of the usual stamp of Tragedy 
Queen, tall and loud, with a big voice." 

“ Did he tell you that ? " 

“ No, of course Tom raves about her. But there is 
no accounting for what a lover will say." This state- 
ment was made with all the sublime assurance of an 
accepted man. “ But you have seen her," I went on, 
“ and can tell me how far his description is true. I 
suppose she is much the same as other actresses, is 
she not ? " 


CLAIRE HAS SEEN CLARISSA. 


249 


fi Jasper/' said Claire, very gently, after a pause, 
u do you ever go to a theatre ? " 

11 Very seldom ; in fact, about twice only since I 
have been in London." 

“ I suppose you were taught as a boy to hate such 
things ? " 

“ Well/’ I laughed, “ I do not expect Uncle Loveday 
would have approved of Tom's choice, if that is what 
you mean. But that does not matter, I fear, as Tom 
swears that his case is hopeless. He worships from 
afar, and says that she is as cold as ice. In fact, he has 

never told his love, but lets concealment like a ■" 

“ That is not what I meant. Do you — do you think 
all actors and actresses wicked ? " 

“ Of course not. Why should I ? " 

u You are going to see " 

u ‘ Francesca' ? Oh, yes, on the opening night." 

“ Then possibly we shall meet. Will you look out 
for me?" 

i( Let me take you, Claire. Oh, I am glad indeed ! 
You will see Tom there, and, I hope, he able to congra- 
tulate him on his triumph. So let me take you." 

She shook her head. 

“ No, no." 

“ Why ? " 

u Because that is impossible — really. I shall see 

you there, and you will see me. Is not that enough ? " 
“ If you say so, it must be," I answered sadly. 
" But " 


250 


DEAD MAN S ROCK. 


“'But me no buts/ ” she quoted. “See. it m 
getting late ; we must be going." 

A most strange silence fell upon us on the way- 
back to Streatley. Claire’s face had not yet wholly 
regained its colour, and she seemed disinclined to talk. 
So I had to solace myself by drinking in long draughts 
of her loveliness, and by whispering to my soul how 
poorly Tom's Queen of Tragedy would show beside my 
sweetheart. 

O fool and blind ! 

Presently my love asked musingly — 

“Jasper, do you think that you could cease to 
love me ? " 

“ Claire, how can you ask it ? " 

“ You are quite sure ? You remember what mother 
said ? 

“ Claire, love is strong as death. How does the 
text run ? e Many waters cannot quench love, neither 
can the floods drown it : if a man would give all the 
substance of his house for love, it would utterly be con- 
temned/ Claire, you must believe that ! " 

“ ' Strong as death/" she murmured. “ Yes, I be- 
lieve it. What a lovely text that is ! " 

The boat touched shore at Streatley, and we stepped 
out. 

“Jasper,” she said again at parting that night, 
“you have no doubt, no grain of doubt, about my 
question, and the answer ? ' Strong as death/ you are 

sure ? ** 


IN THE COLISEUM. 


251 


For answer I strained her to my heart. 

O fool and blind ! O fool and blind ! 
***** 

The night that was big with Tom's fate had come. 
The Coliseum was crowded as we entered. In those 
days the theatre had no stalls, so we sat in the front 
row of the dress circle, Tom having in his modesty- 
refused a box. He was behind the scenes until some 
five minutes before the play began, so that before he 
joined me I had ample time to study the house and look 
about for some sign of Claire. 

Certainly, the sedulous manner in which the new 
tragedy had been advertised was not without result. 
To me, unused as I was to theatre-going, the host 
of people, the hot air, the glare of the gas-lights 
were intoxicating. In a flutter of anxiety for Tom's 
success, of sweet perturbation at the prospect of meet- 
ing Claire, at first I could grasp but a confused image of 
the scene. By degrees, however, I began to look about 
me, and then to scan the audience narrowly for sight of 
my love. 

Surely I should note her at once among thousands. 
Yet my first glance was fruitless. I looked again, 
examined the house slowly face by face, and again was 
baffled. I could see all but a small portion of the pit, 
the upper boxes and gallery. Pit and gallery were out 
of the question. She might, though it was hardly 
likely, be in the tier just above, and I determined to 
satisfy myself after the end of Act I. Meantime I 


252 


DEAD MAN*S ROCK. 


scanned the boxes. There were twelve on either side 
of the house, and all were full. By degrees I satis- 
fied myself that strangers occupied all of them, ex- 
cept the box nearest the stage on the right of the 
tier where I was sitting. The occupants of this were 
out of sight. Only a large yellow and black fan was 
swaying slowly backwards and forwards to tell me that 
somebody sat there. 

Somehow, the slow, ceaseless motion of this pricked 
my curiosity. Its pace, as it waved to and fro, was 
unaltered ; the hand that moved it seemingly tireless ; 
but even the hand was hidden. Not a finger could 
I gain a glimpse of. By some silly freak of fancy 
I was positively burning with eagerness to see the 
fan’s owner, when Tom returned and took his seat be- 
side me. 

“ It begins in five minutes ; everything is ready," 
said he, and his voice had a nervous tremor which he 
sought in vain to hide. 

“ Courage I ” I said ; “ at least the numbers here 
should flatter you." 

“ They frighten me ! What shall I do if it fails ? " 

The overture was drawing to its close. Tom looked 
anxiously around the house. 

“ Yes," he said, “ it is crowded, indeed. By the 
way, was not Claire to have been here ? Point her out 
to me." 

“ She was ; but I cannot see her anywhere. Per- 
haps she is late." 


THE CURTAIN RISES. 


253 


“ If so, I cannot see where she is to find a place. 
Hush ! they are ending.*’ 

As he spoke, the last strains of the orchestra died 
slowly and mournfully away, and the curtain rose upon 
“ Francesca : a Tragedy/* 

This play has since gained such a name, not only 
from its own merits (which are considerable), but in 
consequence also of certain circumstances which this 
story will relate, that it would be not only tedious but 
unnecessary to follow its action in detail. For the 
benefit, however, of those who did not see it at the 
Coliseum, I here subjoin a short sketch of the plot, 
which the better-informed reader may omit. 

Francesca is the daughter of Sebastian, at one time 
Duke of Bologna, hut deposed and driven from liis 
palace by the intrigues of his younger brother Charles. 
At the time when the action begins, Sebastian is chief 
of a hand of brigands, the remains of his faithful 
adherents, whom he has taken with him to the fast- 
nesses of the Apennines. Charles, who has already 
usurped the duchy for some sixteen years, is travelling 
with his son Valentine, a youth of twenty, near the 
haunt of his injured brother. Separated from their 
escort, they are wandering up a pass, when Valentine 
stops to admire the view, promising his father to join 
him at the summit. While thus occupied, he is startled 
by the entrance of Francesca, and, struck with her 
beauty, accosts her. She, sympathising for so noble a 
youth, warns him of the banditti, and he hastens on 


254 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


only to find his father lying at the foot of a precipitous 
rock, dead. He supposes him to have fallen, has the 
body conveyed back to Bologna, and having by this 
time fallen deeply in love with Francesca, prevails on 
her to leave her father and come with him. She con- 
sents, and flies with him, but after some time finds that 
he is deserting her for Julia, daughter of the Duke of 
Ferrara. Slighted and driven to desperation, she makes 
her way back to her father, is forgiven, and learns that 
Charles' death was due to no accident, hut to her father's 
hand. No sooner is this discovery made than Valen- 
tine and Julia are brought in by the banditti, who have 
surprised and captured them, but do not know their 
rank. The deposed duke, Sebastian, does not recognise 
Valentine, and consigns him, with his wife, to a cave, 
under guard of the brigands. It is settled by Sebastian 
that on the morrow Valentine is to go and fetch a 
ransom, leaving his wife behind. Francesca, having 
plied the guards with drink, enters by night into the 
cave where they lie captive, is recognised by them, and 
offers to change dresses with Julia in order that husband 
and wife may escape. A fine scene follows of insistence 
and self-reproach, but ultimately Francesca prevails. 
Valentine and Julia pass out in the grey dawn, and 
Francesca, left alone, stabs herself. The play concludes 
as her father enters the cave and discovers his daughter's 
corpse. 

The first scene (which is placed at the court of 
Bologna) passed without disaster, and the curtain fell 


▲ VOICE. 


255 


for a moment before it rose upon the mountain pass. 
Hitherto the audience had been chilly. They did not 
hiss, but neither did they applaud ; and I could feel, 
without being able to give any definite reason for the 
impression, that so far the play had failed. Tom saw 
it too. I did not dare to look in his face, but could tell 
his agony by his short and laboured breathing. Luckily 
his torture did not last long, for the curtain quickly rose 
for Scene 2. 

The scene was beautifully painted and awakened a 
momentary enthusiasm in the audience. It died away, 
however, as Sebastian and Valentine entered. The 
dialogue between them was short, and Valentine vas 
very soon left alone to a rather dull soliloquy (since 
shortened) which began to weary the audience most un- 
mistakably. I caught the sound of a faint hiss, saw 
one or two people yawning ; and then 

Stealing, rising, swelling, gathering as it thrilled 
the ear all graces and delights of perfect sound; sweep- 
ing the awed heart with touch that set the springs 
quivering to an ecstasy that was almost pain; breath- 
ing through them in passionate whispering ; hovering, 
swaying, soaring upward to the very roof, then shiver- 
ing down again in celestial shower of silver — there 
came a voice that trod all conceptions, all comparisons, 
all dreams to scorn ; a voice beyond hope, beyond belief ; 
a voice that in its unimaginable beauty seemed to com- 
pel the very heaven to listen. 

And yet — surely I knew — surely it could aot be — 


250 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


I must be dreaming — mad ! The bare notion was 
incredible — and even as my heart spoke the words, 
the theatre grew dim and shadowy ; the vast sea of 
faces heaved, melted, swam in confusion; all sound 
came dull and boarse upon my ear ; while there — 
there 

There, in the blaze of light, radiant, lovely, a glori- 
fied and triumphant queen, stepped forward before the 
eyes of that vast multitude — my love, my Claire l 


CHAPTER VI. 


TELLS HOW THE BLACK AND YELLOW PAN SENT A MESSAGE ; 

AND HOW I SAW A PACE IN THE POO. 

As I sat stupefied our eyes met. It was but for an 
instant, but in that instant I saw that she recognised 
me and mutely challenged my verdict. Then she 
turned to Valentine. 

The theatre rang with tumultuous plaudits as her 
song ended. I could feel Tom's grasp at my elbow, 
but I could neither echo the applause nor answer him. 
It was all so wildly, grotesquely improbable. 

This then was my love, this the Claire whom I had 
wooed and won in the shy covert of Pangbourne Woods 
— this deified and transfigured being before whom 
thousands were hushed in awe. Those were the lips 
that had faltered in sweet confession — those before 
which the breath of thousands came and went in 
agitated wonder. It was incredible. 

And then, as Tom's hand was laid upon my arm, it 
flashed upon me that the woman he loved was my 
plighted bride — and he knew nothing of it. As this 
broke upon me there swept over me an awful dread lest 
he should see my face and guess the truth. How could 
I tell him ? Poor Tom 1 Poor Tom ! 


258 


DEAD MAN’S BOCK. 


I turned my eyes upon Claire again. Yes, she was 
superb : beyond all challenge glorious. And all the 
more I felt as one who has betrayed his friend and is 
angry with fate for sealing such betrayal beyond revoke. 

Whether Claire misinterpreted my look of utter 
stupefaction or not, I do not know ; but as she turned 
and recognised Valentine there was a tremor in her voice 
which the audience mistook for art, though I knew it to 
be but too real. I tried to smile and to applaud, but 
neither eyes nor hand would obey my will ; and so even 
Claire’s acting became a reproach and an appeal to me, 
pleading forgiveness to which my soul cried assent 
though my voice denied it. Minute after minute I sat 
beneath an agonising spell I could not hope to break. 
***** 

u Congratulate me, Jasper. What do you think of 
her?” 

It was Tom’s voice beside me. Congratulate him ! 
I felt the meanest among men. 

“ She is — glorious,” I stammered. 

u I knew you would say so. Unbeliever, did ever 
man see such eyes? Confess now, what are Claire’s 
beside them ? ” 

° Claire’s — are — much the same.” 

“ Why, man, Claire’s were deep grey but a day or 
two ago, and Clarissa’s are the brownest of brown ; but 
of course you cannot see from here.” 

Alas ! I knew too surely the colour of Claire’s eyes, 
so like brown in the blaze of the foot-liglits. And her 


A MESSAGE. 


259 


height — Tjm had only seen her walk in tragic buskin. 
How fatally easy had the mistake been ! 

“ Tom, your success is certain now.” 

“ Yes, thanks to her. They were going to damn the 
play before she entered. I could see it. Did you see, 
Jasper ? She looked this way for a moment. Do you 
think she meant to encourage me ? By the way, have 
you caught sight of Claire yet ? ” 

Oh, Tom, Tom, let me spare you for this night ! My 
heart throbbed and something in my throat seemed 
choking me as I muttered, “ Yes.” 

“ Then do not stay congratulating me, hut fly. 
Success spoils the lover. Ah, Jasper, if only Clarissa had 
summoned me ! Hasten : I will keep my eye upon you 
and smile approval on your taste. Where is she ? ” 
Again something seemed to catch me by the throat ; 
I was struggling to answer when I heard a voice behind 
me say, “ For you, sir,” and a note was thrust into my 
hand. With beating heart I opened it, expecting to see 
Claire’s handwriting. But the note was not from her. 
It was scribbled hastily with pencil in a bold hand, and 
ran thus : — 

“ An old friend wishes to see you. Come, if you have time. 
Box No. 7.” 

At first I thought the message must have reached 
me by mistake, but it was very plainly directed to 
“ J. Trenoweth, Esq.” I looked around for the mes- 
senger but found him gone, and fell to scanning the 
boxes once more. 


260 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


As before, they were filled with strangers ; and, as 
before, the black and yellow fan was waving slowly to 
and fro, as though the hand that wielded it was no 
hand at all, but rather some untiring machine. Still 
the owner remained invisible. I hesitated, reflected a 
moment, and decided that even a fool's errand was better 
than enduring the agony of Tom's rapture. I rose. 

“ I will be back again directly," I said, and then 
left him. 

Still pondering on the meaning of this message, I 
made my way down the passages until I came to the 
doors of the boxes, and stopped opposite that labelled 
“ No. 7.” As I did so, it struck me that this, from its 
position, must be the one which contained the black 
and yellow fan. By this time thoroughly curious, I 
knocked. 

“ Come in," said a low voice which I seemed to 
remember. 

I entered and found myself face to face with the 
yellow woman — the mistress of the gambling-hell. 

She was seated there alone, slightly retired from the 
view of the house and in the shadow; but her arm, as it 
rested on the cushion, still swayed the black and yellow 
fan, and her diamonds sparkled lustrously as ever in 
the glare that beat into the box. Her dress, as if to 
emphasise the hideousness of her skin and form a staring 
contrast with her wrinkled face and white hair, was of 
black and yellow, in which she seemed some grisly 
corpse masquerading as youth 


THE OWNER OF TIIE FAN. 


261 


Struck dumb by tbis apparition, I took the seat into 
which she motioned me, while her wonderful eyes 
regarded my face with stony impassiveness. I could 
hear the hoarse murmurs of the house and feel the 
stifling heat as it swept upwards from the pit. The 
strange woman did not stir except to keep up the 
ceaseless motion of her wrist. 

For a full five minutes, as it seemed to me, we sat 
there silently regarding each other. Then at last she 
spoke, and the soft voice was as musically sympathetic 
as ever. 

“You seem astonished to see me, Mr. Trenoweth, 
and yet I have been looking for you for a long time." 

I bowed. 

“I have been expecting you to give me a chance 
of redeeming my defeat." 

“ I am sorry," stammered I, not fully recovered 
from my surprise, “ but that is not likely." 

“No? From my point of view it was extremely 
likely. But somehow I had a suspicion that you would 
be different from the rest. Perhaps it was because I 
had set my heart upon your coming." 

“ I hope," said I, “ that the money " 

She smiled and waved her hand slightly. 

“ Do not trouble about that. Had I chosen, I could 
have gone on losing to you until this moment. No, 
perhaps it was simply because you were least likely to 
do so, that I wished you to come back as all other 
young men would come back. I hope you reached 


262 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


home safely with what you won ; but I need not ask 
that." 

“ Indeed you need. I was attacked as I left the 
room, and hut for a lucky accident, should now be 
dead." 

“ Ah," she said placidly ; “ you suspect me. Don't 
say f no/ for I can see you do. Nevertheless you are 
entirely wrong. Why, Mr. Trenoweth, had I chosen, 
do you think I could not have had you robbed before 
you had gone three paces from the house ? " 

This was said with such composure, and her eyes 
were so absolutely void of emotion, that I could but 
sit and gasp. Once more I recalled the moment 
when, as I fled down the dark passage, I had seen her 
sitting motionless and calm in the light of her countless 
candles. 

“ But do you think I sent for you to tell you that ? " 
she continued. “ I sent for you because you interested 
me, and because I want a talk with you. Hush ! the 
curtain is rising for the second act. Let us resume 
when it has finished ; you will not deny me that favour 
at least." 

I bowed again, and was silent as the curtain rose — 
and once more Claire's superb voice thrilled the house. 
Surely man was seldom more strangely placed than was 
I, between the speech of my love and the eyes of this 
extraordinary woman. As I sat in the shadow and 
listened, I felt those blazing fires burning into my very 
goul; yet whenever I looked up and met them, '-heir icy 


THE YELLOW WOMAN. 


£63 


glitter baffled all interpretation. Still as I sat there, the 
voice of Claire came to me as though beseeching and 
praying for my judgment, and rising with the blaze of 
light and heated atmosphere of the house, swept into 
the box until I could bear the oppression no longer. 
She must have looked for me, and seeing my place 
empty, have guessed that I condemned her. Mad with 
the thought, I rose to my feet and stood for a minute 
full in the light of the theatre. It may not have been 
even a minute, but she saw me, and once more, as our 
gaze met, faltered for an instant. Then the voice rang 
out clear and true again, and I knew that all was well 
between us. Yet in her look there was something 
which I could not well interpret. 

As I sank back in my seat, I met the eyes of my 
companion still impenetrably regarding me. But as the 
curtain fell she said quietly — 

“ So you know Clarissa Lambert?” 

I stammered an affirmative. 

“ Well ? You admire her acting ? ” 

" I never saw it until to-night.” 

“ That is strange ; and yet you know her ? ” 

I nodded. 

“She is a great success — on which I congratulate 
myself, for I discovered her.” 

“ You 1 ” I could only exclaim. 

“Yes, I. Is it so extraordinary? She and I are 
connected, so to speak ; which makes it the more odd 
that she should never have mentioned you/’ 


264 


DEAD MAN S ROCK. 


The eyes seemed now to be reading me as a book 
I summoned all my courage and tried to return their 
steady stare. There was a pause, broken only by the 
light frou-frou of the fan, as it still waved slowly back- 
wards and forwards. Among all the discoveries of this 
night, it was hard enough to summon reason, harder to 
utter speech. 

“But you will be leaving me again if I do not 
explain why I sent for you. You are wondering now 
on my reasons. They are very simple — professional 
even, in part. In the first place, I wished to have a 
good look at you. Do you wonder why an old woman 
should wish to look upon a comely youth? Do not 
blush; but listen to my other and professional reason. 
I should greatly like, if I may, to look upon your 
talisman — that golden buckle or whatever it was that 
brought such marvellous luck. Is it on you to-night ?” 

I wore it, as a matter of fact, in my waistcoat 
pocket, attached to one end of my chain ; but I hesi- 
tated for a moment. 

“ You need not be afraid,” she said, and there was 
a suspicion of mockery in her tone. “ I will return it, 
as I returned it before. But if you are reluctant to let 
me see it (and remember, I have seen it once), do not 
hesitate to refuse. I shall not be annoyed.” 

Reflecting that, after all, her curiosity was certain to 
be baffled, I handed her the Golden Clasp, with the 
chain, in silence. 

“It is a curious relic,” said she, as she slowly 


I SHOW THE CLASP. 


265 


examined it and laid it on her lap for a moment. “ If 
the question he allowed, how did you become possessed 
of it?" 

“ It belonged to my father/' I answered. 

“ Excuse me/' she said, deliberately, “ that is hardly 
an answer to my question." 

During the silence that followed, she took up the 
clasp again, and studied the writing. As she did so she 
used her right hand only ; indeed, during the whole 
time, her left had been occupied with her tireless fan. 
I fancied, though I could not be certain, that it was 
waving slightly faster than before. 

“ The writing seems to be nonsense. What is this — 
* Moon . end . south — deep . at . point ' ? I can make no 
meaning of it. I suppose there is a meaning ? " 

“ Not to my knowledge/’ said I, and immediately 
repented, for once more I seemed to catch that gleam in 
her eyes which had so baffled me when first she saw 
the Clasp. The curtain rose upon the third act of 
“ Francesca," and we sat in silence, she with the Clasp 
lying upon her lap, I wondering by what possibility she 
could know anything about my father's secret. She 
could not, I determined. The whole history of the 
Golden Clasp made it impossible. And yet I repented 
my rashness. It was too late now, however ; so, when 
the act was over I waited for her to speak. 

“ So this belonged to your father. Tell me, was he 
at all like you ? " 

w He was about my height, I should guess," said 


268 


DEiD MAN’S RICK. 


I, wondering at this new question; "but otherwise 
quite unlike. He was a fair man, I am dark.” 

" But your grandfather — was he not dark?” 

" I believe so/’ I answered, " but really — ” 

"You wonder at my questions, of course. Never 
mind me; think me a witch, if you like. Do I not 
look a witch ? ” 

Indeed she did, as she sat there. The diamonds 
flashed and gleamed, lighting up the awful colour of 
her skin until she seemed a very " Death-in-Life.” 

"I see that 1 puzzle you; but your looks, Mr. 
Trenoweth, are hardly complimentary. However, you 
are forgiven. Here, take your talisman, and guard it 
jealously ; I thank you for showing it to me, but if 
I were you I should keep it secret. Shall I see you 
again? I suppose not. 1 am afraid I have made you 
miss some of the tragedy. You must pardon me for 
that, as I have waitid long to see you. At any rate, 
there is the last act to come. Good-bye, and be careful 
of your talisman.” 

As she spoke, she shut her fan with a sharp click, 
and then it flashed upon me that it had never (-eased its 
pendulous motion until that instant. It was a strange 
idea to strike me then, but a stranger yet succeeded. 
Was it that I heard a low mocking laugh within the 
box as I stepped out into the passage ? I cannot clearly 
tell ; perhaps it is bi t a fancy conjured up by later 
reflection on that meel ing and its consequences. I only 
know that as I bowed and left her, the vision that I boro 


BOX NO. 7 IS EMPTY. 


2(57 


sway was not of the gleaming gems, the yellow face, 
the white hair, or waving fan, hut of two coal-black and 
impenetrable eyes. 

I sought my place, and dropped into the seat beside 
Tom. The fourth act was beginning, so that I had time 
to speculate upon my interview, but could find no hope 
of solution. Finally, I abandoned guessing, to admire 
Claire. As the play went on, her acting grew more and 
more transcendent. Lines which I had heard from Tom's 
lips and scoffed at, were now fused with subtle meaning 
and passion. Scenes which I had condemned as awk- 
ward and heavy, became instinct with exquisite pathos. 
There comes a point in acting at which criticism ceases, 
content to wonder; this point it was clear that my 
love had touched. The new play was a triumphant 
success. 

“ So/' said Tom, before the last act, “ Claire carries 
a yellow fan, does she ? I looked everywhere for you 
at first, and only caught sight of you for an instant by 
the merest chance. You behaved rather shabbily in 
giving me no chance of criticism, for I never caught a 

glimpse of her. I hope she admired Hallo ! she's 

gone ! " 

I followed his gaze, and saw that Box No. 7 was no 
longer occupied by the fan. 

“ I suppose you saw her off? Well, Ido not admire 
your taste, I must confess — nor Claire's — to go when 
Francesca was beginning to touch her grandest height. 
Whew 1 you lovers make me blush for you." 


2G8 


DEAD MAN'S EOCK. 


“ Tom/' I said, anxious to lead him from all men- 
tion of Claire , {i you must forgive me for having laughed 
at your play." 

“ Forgive you ! I will forgive you if you weep 
during the next act ; only on that condition." 

How shall I describe the last act ? Those who read 
u Francesca" in its published form can form no ade- 
quate idea of the enthusiasm in the Coliseum that night. 
To them it is a skeleton ; then it was clothed with 
passionate flesh and blood, breathed, sobbed and wept 
in purest pathos ; to me, even now, as I read it again, 
it is charged with the inspiration of that wonderful art, 
so true, so tender, that made its last act a miracle. 
I saw old men sob, and young men bow their heads to 
hide the emotion which they could not check. I saw 
that audience which had come to criticise, tremble and 
break into tumultuous weeping. Beside me, a grey- 
headed man was crying as any child. Yet why do I go 
on ? No one who saw Clarissa Lambert can ever forget 
— no one who saw her not can ever imagine. 

Tom had bowed his acknowledgments, the last 
flower had been flung, the last cheer had died away 
as we stepped out into the Strand together. The 
street was wrapped in the densest of November fogs. 
So thick was it that the lamps, the shop windows, came 
into sight, stared at us in ghostly weakness for a 
moment, and then were gone, leaving us in Egyptian 
gloom. I could not hope to see Claire to-night, and 
Tom was too modest to offer his congratulations until 


THE LAST ACT. 


269 


the morning. Both he and I were too shaken by the 
scene just past for many words, and outside the black 
fog caught and held us by the throat. 

Even in the pitchy gloom I could feel that Toni's 
step was buoyant. He was treading already in imagi- 
nation the path of love and fame. How should I have 
the heart to tell him ? How wither the chaplet that 
already seemed to bind his brow ? 

Tom was the first to break the silence which had 
fallen upon us. 

“ Jasper, did you ever see or hear the like ? Can 
a man help worshipping her? But for her, ( Francesca' 
would have been hissed. I know it, I could see it, and 
now, I suppose, I shall be famous. 

“ Famous 1 " continued he, soliloquising. “ Three 
months ago I would have given the last drop of my 
blood for fame ; and now, without Clarissa, fame will 
be a mockery. Do you think I might have any chance, 
the least chance ? " 

How could I answer him? The fog caught my 
breath as I tried to stammer a reply, and Tom, mis- 
interpreting my want of words, read his condemnation. 

“ You do not ? Of course, you do not ; and you 
are right. Success has intoxicated me, I suppose. 
I am not used to the drink ! " and he laughed a joyless 
laugh. 

Then, with a change of mood, he caught my hat 
from off my head, and set his own in its place. 

“ We will change characters for the nonce/' he said, 


*70 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ after the fashion of Falstaff and Prince Hal, and 
I will read myself a chastening discourse on the vanity 
of human wishes. ‘Do thou stand for me, and I'll 
play my father.' Eh, J asper ? " 

“‘Well, here I am set,"' quoted I, content to 
humour him. 

“ Well, then, I know thee ; thou art Thomas Loveday, 
a beggarly Grub Street author, i' faith, a man of litera- 
ture, and wouldst set eyes upon one to whom princes 
fling bouquets; a low Endymion puffing a scrannel 
pipe, and wouldst call therewith a queen to be thy bride. 
Out upon thee for such monstrous folly 1 *' 

In his voice, as it came to me through the dense 
gloom, there rang, for all its summoned gaiety, a 
desperate mockery hideous to hear. 

“ Behold, success hath turned thy weak brain. But 
an hour agone enfranchised from Grub Street, thou 
must sing ‘I'd be a butterfly.' Thou art vanity abso- 
lute, conceit beyond measure, and presumption out of 
all whooping. Yea, and but as a fool Pygmalion, not 
content with loving thine own handiwork, thou must 
needs fall in love with the goddess that breathed life 
into its stiff limbs ; must yearn, not for Galatea, but 

for Aphrodite ; not for Francesca, but for Ah 1 '* 

What was that ? I saw a figure start up as if from 
below our feet, and Tom’s hand go up to his breast. 
There was a scuffle, a curse, and as I dashed forward, 
a dull, dim gleam— and Tom, with a groan, sank back 
into my arms. 


m T£IE BLACK FOQ. 


271 


That was all. A moment, and all had happened. 
Yet not all ; for as I caught the body of my friend, and 
saw his face turn ashy white in the gloom, I saw also, 
saw unmistakably framed for an instant in the black- 
ness of the fog, a face I knew ; a face I should know 
until death robbed my eyes of sight and my brain of 
remembrance — the face of Simon Colliver. 

A moment, and before I could pursue, before I could 
even shout or utter its name, it had faded into the 
darkness, and was gone. 


CHAPTER VII. 


TELLS HOW CLAIRE WENT TO THE PLAT; AND HOW SHE 
SAW THE GOLDEN CLASP. 

Tom was dying*. His depositions had been taken and 
signed with his failing hand ; the surgeon had given his 
judgment, and my friend was lying upon his bed, face 
to face with the supreme struggle. 

The knife had missed his heart by little more than 
an inch, but the inward bleeding was killing him and 
there was no hope. He knew it, and though the reason 
of that cowardly blow was a mystery to him, he asked 
few questions, but faced his fate with the old boyish 
pluck. His eyes as they turned to mine were lit with 
the old boyish love. 

Once only since his evidence was taken had his lips 
moved, and then to murmur her name. I had sent for 
her : a short note with only the words “ Tom is dying 
and wants to speak with you.” So, while we waited, I 
sat holding my friend's hand and busy with my own 
black thoughts. 

I knew that he had received the blow meant for me, 
and that the secret of this too, as well as that other 
assault in the gambling-den, hung on the Golden Clasp 


CLAIRE COMES. 


273 


and the Great Ruby. Whatever that secret was, the 
yellow woman knew of it, and held it beneath the glit- 
ter of her awful eyes. She it was that had directed 
the murderous knife in the hands of Simon Colliver. 
Bitterly I cursed the folly which had prompted my rash 
words in the theatre, and so sacrificed my friend. With 
what passion, even in my despair, I thanked Heaven that 
the act which led to Colliver's mistake had been Tom's 
and not mine ! Yet, what consolation was it ? It was 
I, not he, that should be lying there. He had given 
his life for his friend — a friend who had already robbed 
him of his love. O false and traitorous friend ! 

In my humiliation I would have taken my hand 
from his, but a feeble pressure and a look of faint re- 
proach restrained me. So he lay there and I sat beside 
him, and both counted the moments until Claire should 
come — or death. 

A knock at the door outside. Tom heard it and in 
his eyes shone a light of ineffable joy. In answer to his 
look I dropped his hand and went to meet her. 

“ Claire, how can I thank you for this speed ? " 

“ How did it happen ? " 

“ Murdered ! 3> said I. “ Foully struck down last 
night as he left the theatre/' 

Her eyes looked for a moment as though they would 
have questioned me further, hut she simply asked — 

" Does he want to see me ? ’* 

“ When he heard he was to die he asked for you. 
Claire, if you only knew how he longs to see you ; had 


m 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


you only seen his eyes when he heard you come ! You 
know why ” 

She nodded gravely. 

“ I suppose/' she said slowly, “ we had better say 
nothing of " 

“ Nothing/' I answered ; “ it is better so. If there 
be any knowledge beyond the grave he will know all 
soon." 

Claire was silent. 

"Yes," she assented at length, "it is better so. 
Take me to him." 

I drew back as Claire approached the bed, dreading 
to meet Tom's eyes ; but I saw them welcome her in a 
flash of thankful rapture, then slowly close as though 
unable wholly to bear this glad vision. 

Altogether lovely she was as she bent and lifted his 
nerveless hand, with the light of purest compassion on 
her face. 

" You have come then," said the dying man. " God 
bless you for that ! " 

“ I am come, and oh ! I am so very, very sorry." 

" I saw Jasper write and knew he had sent, but I 
hardly dared to hope. I am — very weak — and am 
going — fast." 

For answer, a tear of infinite pity dropped on the 
white hand. 

“ Don't weep — I can't bear to see you weeping. It 
is all for the best. I can see that I have had hopes 
and visions, but I should never have attained them — 


AT TOM'S BEDSIDE. 


275 


never. Now I shall not have to strive, Better so — 
better so." 

For a moment or two the lips moved inaudibly ; then 
they spoke again — 

“ It was so good of you — to come ; I was afraid — 
afraid — hut you are good. You saved my play last 
night, but you cannot save — me." A wan smile played 
over the white face and was gone. 

“ Better so, for I can speak now and be pardoned. 
Do you know why I sent for you ? I wanted to tell 
something — before I died. Do not be angry — I shall 
be dead soon, and in the grave, they say, there is no 
knowledge. Clarissa ! oh, pity me — pity me, if I 
speak ! " 

The eyes looked up imploringly and met their pardon. 

“ I have loved you — yes, loved you. Can you for- 
give ? It need not distress — you — now. It was mad — 
mad — but I loved you. Jasper, come here." 

I stepped to the bed. 

“ Tell her I loved her, and ask her — to forgive me. 
Tell her I knew it was hopeless. Tell her so, Jasper." 

Powerless to meet those trustful eyes, weary with 
the anguish of my remorse, I stood there helpless. 

“ Jasper is too much — upset just now to speak. 
Never mind, he will tell you later. He is in love him- 
self. I have never seen her, but I hope he may be 
happier than I. Forgive me for saying that. I am 
happy now — happy now. 

“ You do not know Jasper," continued the dying 


SJ76 


DEAD MAN'S EOCK. 


man after a pause ; “ but be saw you last night — and 
admired — how could he help it ? I hope you will be 
friends — for my sake. J asper is my only friend." 

There was a grey shadow on his face now — the 
shadow of death. Tom must have felt it draw near, 
for suddenly raising himself upon his elbow, he cried — 

“ Ah, I was selfish — I did not think. They are 
waiting at the theatre — go to them. You will act your 
best — for my sake. Forget what I have said, if you 
cannot forgive." 

“ Oh, why will you think that ? " 

“ You do forgive ? Oh, God bless you, God bless 
you for it ! Clarissa, if that be so, grant one thing more 
of your infinite mercy. Kiss me once — once only — on 
the lips. I shall die happier so. Will you— can you — 
do this ? " 

The film was gathering fast upon those eyes once 
so full of laughter; but through it they gazed in 
passionate appeal. For answer, my love bent gravely 
over the bed and with her lips met his ; then, still 
clasping his hand, sank on her knees beside the bed. 

“ Thank God ! My love — oh, let me call you that — 
you cannot — help — my loving you. Do not pray — I am 
happy now and — they are waiting for you." 

Slowly Claire arose to her feet and stood waiting foi 
his last word — 

“ They are waiting — waiting. Good-bye, Jasper — 
old friend — and Clarissa — Clarissa — my love — they are 
waiting — I cannot come — Clar <** 


CLAIRE GOES TO THE PLAY. 


277 


Slowly Claire bent and once more touched his lips, 
then without a word passed slowly out. As she went 
Death entered and found on its victim's face a change- 
less, rapturous smile. 

So “ Francesca '' was played a second time and, as the 
papers said next morning, with even more perfect art 
and amid more awed enthusiasm than on the first night. 
But as the piece went on, a rumour passed through the 
house that its young author was dead — suddenly and 
mysteriously dead while the dawn of his fame was yet 
breaking — struck down, some said, outside the theatre 
by a rival, while others whispered that he had taken 
poison, but none knew for certain. Only, as Claire 
passed from one heart-shaking scene to another, the 
rumour grew and grew, so that when the curtain fell 
the audience parted in awed and murmured speculations. 

And all the while I was kneeling beside the body of 
my murdered friend. 

***** 

A week had passed and I was standing with Claire 
beside Tom's grave. We had met and spoken at the 
funeral, but some restraint had lain upon our tongues. 
For myself, I was still as one who had sold his brother 
for a price, and Claire had forborne from questioning 
my grief. 

The coroner's jury had brought in a verdict of “ Mur- 
der by a certain person unknown," and now the police 
were occupied in following such clues as I could give 
them. All the daily papers assigned robbery as the 


278 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


motive, and the disappearance of Tom's watch-chain gave 
plausibility to the theory. But I knew too well why 
that chain had disappeared, and even in my grief found 
consolation in the thought of Colliver's impotent rage 
when he should come to examine his prize. I had de- 
scribed the face and figure of my enemy and had even 
identified him with the long-missing sailor Georgio 
Bhodojani, so that they promised to lay hands on him 
in a very short space. But the public knew nothing of 
this. The only effect of the newspapers' version of the 
murder was to send the town crowding in greater num- 
bers than ever to see the dead man's play. 

Since the first night of “ Francesca," Claire and I 
had only met by Tom's bedside and at his funeral. But 
as I entered the gloomy cemetery that afternoon I spied 
a figure draped in black beside the yet unsettled mound, 
and as I drew near knew it to be Claire. 

So we stood there facing one another for a full 
minute, at a loss for words. A wreath of immortelles 
lay upon the grave. In my heart I thanked her for the 
gift, but could not speak. It seemed as though the 
hillock that parted us were some impassable barrier to 
words. Had I but guessed the truth I should have 
known that, unseen ana unsuspected, across that foot or 
two of turf was stretched a gulf we were never more to 
cross : between our lives lay the body of my friend ; 
and not his only, but many a pallid corpse that with its 
mute lips cursed our loves. 

Presently Claire raised her head and spoke. 


THE CEMETERY. 


279 


“ Jasper, you have much to forgive me, and I hardly 
dare ask your forgiveness. It is too late to ask for- 
giveness of a dead man, hut could he hear now I would 
entreat him to pardon the felly that wrought this cruel 
mistake.” 

“ Claire, you could not k now. How was it possible 
to guess ? ” 

e( That is true, but it is no less cruel. And I de- 
ceived you. Can you ever forgive ? ” 

“ Forgive ! forgive what ? That I found my love 
peerless among women ? Oh, Claire, Claire , ‘ forgive 3 ? 3> 
“ Yes; what matters it that for the moment I have 
what is called fame ? I deceived you — yet, believe me, 
it was only because I thought to make the surprise 
more pleasant. I thought — but it is too late. Only 
believe I had no other thought, no other wish. My 
poor scheme seemed so harmless at first: then as the 
days went on I began to doubt. But until you told me, 
as we stood beside the river, of — him, I never guessed ; 
— oh, believe me, I never guessed ! ” 

“ Love, do not accuse yourself in this way. It hurts 
me to hear you speak so. If there was any fault 
it was mine ; but the Fates blinded us. If you had 
known Tom, you would know fhat he would forgive 
could he hear us now. For me, Claire, what have I 
to pardon ? 33 

Claire did not answer for a moment. There was still 
a trouble in her face, as though something yet remained 
to be said and she had not the courage to utter it. 


280 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ Jasper, there is something besides, which you have 
to pardon if you can." 

" My love ! " 

“Do you remember what I asked you that night, 
when you first told me about him ? " 

“ You asked me a foolish question, if I remember 
rightly. You asked if I could ever cease to love you." 

“ No, not foolish ; I really meant it seriously, and I 
believed you when you answered me. Are you of the 
same mind now? Believe me, I am not asking lightly." 

“ I answer you as I answered you then : ‘ Love is 
strong as death/ My love, put away these thoughts 
and be sure that I love you as my own soul." 

“ But perhaps, even so, you might be so angry that 
— Oh, J asper, how can I tell you ? " 

“ Tell me all, Claire." 

“ I told you I was called, or that they called me 
Claire. Were you not surprised when you saw my name 
as Clarissa Lambert ? " 

“ Is that all ? " I cried. “ Why, of course, I knew 
how common it is for actresses to take another 
name. I was even glad of it ; for the name I know, 
your own name, is now a secret, and all the sweeter 
so. All the world admires Clarissa Lambert, but I alone 
love Claire Luttrell, and know that Claire Luttrell 
loves me." 

“ But that is not all," she expostulated, whilst the 
trouble in her eyes grew deeper. “ Oh, why will you 
make it bo hard for me to explain ? I never thought. 


EXPLANATIONS. 


281 


when I told you so carelessly on that night when we 
met for the first time, that you would grow to care for 
me at all. And it was the same afterwards, when 
I introduced you to my mother ; I gave you the name 
Luttrell, without ever dreaming w 

“ Was Luttrell not your mother's name?" I asked, 
perplexed. 

“That is the name by which she is always called 
now ; and I am always called Claire ; in fact, it is my 
name, but I have another, and I ought to have told you." 

“ Why, as Claire I know you, and as Claire I shall 
always love you. What does it matter if your real 
name be Lambert? You will change it, love, soon, 
I trust." 

But my poor little jest woke no mirth in her eyes. 

“ No, it is not Lambert. That is only the name 
I took when I went on the stage. Nor am I called 
Luttrell. It is a sad story ; but let me tell it now, and 
put an end to all deception. I meant to do so long 
ago ; but lately I thought I would wait until after 
you had seen me on the stage ; I thought I would 

explain all together, not knowing that he but it has 

all gone wrong. Jasper, I know you will pity poor 
mother, even though she had allowed you to be de- 
ceived. She has been so unhappy. But let me tell it 
first, and then you will judge. She calls herself Lut- 
trell to avoid persecution ; to avoid a man who is " 

“ A villain, I am sure." 

“ A villain, yes ; but worse. He is her husband ; 


282 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


not my father, but a second husband. My father died 
when I was quite a little child, and she married again. 
Ever since that day she has been miserable. I remember 
her face — oh, so well ! when she first discovered the real 
character of the man. For years she suffered — we were 
abroad then — until at last she could bear it no longer, 
so she fled — fled back to England, and took me with her. 
I think, but I am not sure, that her husband did not 
dare to follow her to England, because he had done 
something against the laws. I only guess this, for 
I never dare to ask mother about him. I did so once, 
and shall never forget the look of terror that came into 
her eyes. I only guess he has some strong reason for 
avoiding England, for I remember we went abroad 
hastily, almost directly after that night when mother 
first discovered that she had been deceived. However 
that may be, we came to England, mother and I, and 
changed our name to Luttrell,* which was her maiden 
name. After this, our life became one perpetual dread 
of discovery. We were miserably poor, of course, and 
I was unable to do anything to help for many years. 
Mother was so careful ; why, she even called me by my 
second name, so desperately anxious was she to hide all 
traces from that man. Then suddenly we were dis- 
covered — not by him, but by his mother, whom he set 
to search for us, and she — for she was not wholly bad — 
promised to make my fortune on the single condition 
that half my earnings were sent to him. Otherwise, 
she threatened that mother should have no rest. What 


CLAIRE SEES THE GOLDEN CLASP. 


283 


could I do ? It was the only way to save ourselves. 
Well, I promised to go upon the stage, for this woman 
fancied she discovered some talent in me. Why, Jasper, 
how strangely you are looking ! 99 

“ Tell me — tell me/’ I cried, “ who is this woman?” 

“ You ought to know that, for you were in the box 
with her during most of the first night of ( Francesca/” 

A horrible, paralysing dread had seized me. 

“ Her name, and his ? Quick — tell me, for God's 
sake ! ” 

“ Colliver. He is called Simon Colliver. But, 
Jasper, what is it ? What ■” 

I took the chain and Golden Clasp and handed them 
to Claire without speech. 

u Why, what is this ? ” she cried. “ He has a piece 
exactly like this, the fellow to it ; I remember seeing 
it when I was quite small. Oh, speak ! what new 
mystery, what new trouble is this ? ” 

“ Claire, Colliver is here in London, or was but a 
week ago.” 

“ Here ! 99 

a Yes, Claire ; and it was he that murdered Thomas 
Loveday.” 

“ Murdered Thomas Loveday L I do not understand.” 
She had turned a deathly white, and spread out her 
hands as if for support. “ Tell me ” 

“ Yes, Claire,” I said, as I stepped to her, and put 
my arm about her ; <( it is truth, as I stand here. 
Colliver, your mother’s husband, foully murdered my 


284 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


innocent friend for the sake of that piece of gold ; and 
more., Simon Colliver, for the sake of this same accursed 
token, murdered my father ! ” 

" Your father ! ” 

She shook off my arm, and stood facing me there, 
by Tom’s grave, with a look of utter horror that froze 
my blood. 

“ Yes, my father; or stay, I am wrong. Though 
Colliver prompted, his was not the hand that did the 
deed. That he left to a poor wretch whom he after- 
wards slew himself — one Railton — John Railton.” 

“What l” 

u Why, Claire, Claire ! What is it ? Speak ! " 

“ I am Janet Railton ! ” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


TELLS HOW THE CURTAIN FELL UPON “ FRANCESCA ! 

A TRAGEDY. W 

For a moment I staggered back as though buffeted 
in the face, then, as our eyes met and read in each other 
the desperate truth, I sprang forward just in time to 
catch her as she fell. Blindly, as if in some hideous 
trance, reeling and stumbling over the graves, I carried 
her in my arms to the cemetery gate and stood there 
panting and bewildered. 

Cold and white as marble she lay in my arms, so 
that for one terrible moment I thought her dead. 
“ Better so/* my heart had cried, and then I laughed 
aloud (God forgive me !) at the utter cruelty of it all. 
But she was not dead. As I watched the lovely ashen 
face, the slow blood came trickling back and throbbed 
faintly at her temples, the light breath flickered and 
went and came once more. Feebly and with wonder 
the dark eyes opened to the light of day, then closed 
again as the lips parted in a moaning whisper. 

" Claire ! 99 I cried, and my voice seemed to come from 
far away, so hollow and unnatural was it, “ I must take 
you to your home ; are you well enough to go ? ” 

I had laid her on the stone upon which the bearers 


286 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


were used to set down the coffins when weary. Scarcely 
a week ago, poor Toni’s corpse had rested for a moment 
upon this grim stone. As I bent to catch the answer, 
and saw how like to death her face was, I thought how 
well it were for both of us, should we be resting there 
so together; not leaving the acre of the dead, but 
entering it as rightful heirs of its oblivion. 

After a while, as I repeated my question, the lips 
again parted and I heard. 

I looked down the road. The cemetery lay far out 
in one of the northern suburbs, and just now the neigh- 
bourhood seemed utterly deserted. By good chance, 
however, I spied an old four-wheeler crawling along in 
the distance. I ran after it, hailed it, brought it back, 
and with the help of the wondering driver, placed my 
love inside ; then I gave the man the address, and bid- 
ding him drive with all speed, sprang in beside Claire. 

Still faint, she was lying back against the cushion. 
The cab crawled along at a snail’s pace, but long as the 
journey was, it was passed in utter silence. She never 
opened her eyes, and as for me, what comfortable words 
could I speak? Yet as I saw the soft rise and fall of 
her breast, I longed for words, Heaven knows how 
madly ! But none came, and in silence we drew up at 
length before a modest doorway in Old Kensington. 

Here Claire summoned all her strength lest her 
mother should be frightened. Still keeping her eyes 
averted, she stepped as bravely as she could from the 
cab, and laid her hand upon the door-handle. 


IN TORTURE. 


287 


I made as if to follow. 

“ No, no," she said hastily, “ leave me to myself — 
I will write to-morrow and perhaps see you; but, oh, 
pray, not to-day ! " 

Before I could answer she had passed into the house 
***** 

Twenty-four hours had passed and left me as they 
found me, in torture. Despite my doubt, I swore she 
should not cast me off ; then knelt and prayed as I had 
never prayed before, that Heaven would deny some of 
its cruelty to my darling. In the abandonment of my 
supplication, I was ready to fling the secret from me 
and forgive all, to forgive my father's murderer, my 
life-long enemy, and let him go unsought, rather than 
give up Claire. Yet as I prayed, my entreaties and my 
tears went up to no compassionate God, but beat them- 
selves upon the adamantine face of Dead Man's Bock 
that still rose inexorable between me and Heaven. 

That night the crowd that gathered in the Coliseum 
to see the new play, went away angry and disappointed ; 
for Clarissa Lambert was not acting. Another actress 
took her part — but how differently ! And all the while 
she, for whose sake they had come, was on her knees 
wrestling with a grimmer tragedy than “ Francesca," 
with no other audience than the angels of pity. 

Twenty-four hours had passed, and found me hasten- 
ing towards Old Kensington; for in my pocket lay a 
note bearing only the words “ Come at 3.30 — Claire,'* 
and on my heart rested a load of suspense unbearable. 


288 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


For many minutes beforehand, I paced up and down 
outside the house in an agony, and as my watch pointed 
to the half-hour, knocked and was admitted. 

Mrs. Luttrell met me in the passage. She seemed 
most terribly white and worn, so that I was astonished 
when she simply said, "Claire is slightly unwell, and 
in fact could not act last night, but she wishes to 
see you for some reason." 

Wondering why Claire's mother should look so 
strangely if she guessed nothing of what had happened, 
but supposing illness to be the reason, I stopped for an 
instant to ask. 

"Am I pale?" she answered. "It is nothing — 
nothing — do not take any notice of it. I am rather 
weaker than usual to-day, that is all — a mere nothing. 
You will find Claire in the drawing-room there." And 
so she left me. 

I knocked at the drawing-room door, and hearing 
a faint voice inside, entered. As I did so, Claire rose 
to meet me. She was very pale, and the dark circles 
around her eyes told of a long vigil ; but her manner at 
first was composed and even cold. 

" Claire ! " I cried, and stretched out my hands. 

"Not yet," she said, and motioned me to a chair. 
" I sent for you because I have been thinking of — of — 
what happened yesterday, and I want you to tell me 
all ; the whole story from beginning to end." 

"But " 

"There is no f but ' in the case, Jasper. I am Janet 


I TELL MY STORY. 


289 


Railton, and you say that my father killed yours. Tell 
me how it was.'” 

Her manner was so calm that I hesitated at first, 
bewildered. Then, finding that she waited for me to 
speak, I sat down facing her and began my story. 

I told it through, without suppression or conceal- 
ment, from the time when my father started to seek 
the treasure, down to the cowardly blow that had taken 
my friend's life. During the whole narrative she never 
took her eyes from my face for more than a moment. 
Her very lips were bloodless, but her manner was as 
quiet as though I were reading her some story of people 
who had never lived. Once only she interrupted me. I 
was repeating the conversation between her father and 
Simon Colliver upon Dead Man's Rock. 

“ You are quite sure," she asked, “ of the words ? 
You are positive he said, c Captain, it was your knife'?" 

“ Certain," I answered sadly. 

“ You are giving the very words they both used ? " 

“ As well as I can remember ; and I have cause for 
a good memory.” 

“ Go on," she replied simply. 

So I unrolled the whole chronicle of our unhappy 
fates, and even read to her Lucy Railton ’s letter which 
I had brought with me. Then, as I ceased, for full a 
minute we sat in absolute silence, reading each other's 
gaze. 

(< Let me see the letter," she said, and held out hei 
hand for it. 


290 


DEAD MAN'S EOCK. 


I gave it to her. She read it slowly through and 
handed it back. 

“ Yes, it is my mother's letter/' she said, slowly. 

Then again silence fell upon us. I could hear the 
clock tick slowly on the mantelpiece, and the beating of 
my own heart that raced and outstripped it. That was 
all ; until at length the slow, measured footfall of the 
timepiece grew maddening to hear ; it seemed a symbol 
of the unrelenting doom pursuing us, and I longed to 
rise and break it to atoms. 

I could stand it no longer. 

“ Claire, tell me that this will not — cannot alter you 
* — that you are mine yet, as you were before." 

“ This is impossible," she said, very gravely and 
quietly. 

a Impossible ? Oh, no, no ; do not say that ! You 
cannot, you must not say that ! " 

u Yes, Jasper," she repeated, and her face was pallid 
as snow ; “ it is impossible." 

But as I heard my doom, I arose and fought it with 
blind despair. 

“ Claire, you do not know what you are saying. You 
love me, Claire ; you have told me so, and I love you as 
my very soul. Surely, then, you will not say this thing. 
How were we to know ? How could you have told ? 
Oh, Claire ! is it that you do not love me ? " 

Her eyes were full of infinite compassion and tender- 
ness, but her lips were firm and cold. 

‘ ( You know that I love you." 


IT CANNOT BE. 


291 


“ Then, oh, my love ! how can this come between us ? 
What does it matter that our fathers fought and killed 
each other, if only we love ? Surely, surely Heaven 
cannot fix the seal of this crime upon us for ever? 
Speak, Claire, and tell me that you will be mine in spite 
of all ! " 

" It cannot be,” she answered, very gently. 

“ Cannot be 1 ” I echoed. “ Then I was right, and 
you do not love, but fancied that you did for a while. 
Love, love, was that fair ? No power on earth — no, 
nor in heaven — should have made me cast you off so.” 

My rage died out before the mute reproach of those 
lovely eyes. I caught the white hand. 

“ Forgive me, Claire ; I was desperate, and knew 
not what I was saying. I know you love me — you 
have said so, and you are truth itself ; truth and all 
goodness. But if you have loved, then you can love 
me still. Remember our text, Claire, 1 Love is strong 
as death/ Strong as death, and can it be overcome so 
easily ? ” 

She was trembling terribly, and from the little hand 
within mine I could feel her agitation. But though the 
soft eyes spoke appealingly as they were raised in 
answer, I could see, behind all their anguish, an im- 
mutable resolve. 

“ No, Jasper; it can never bfe — never. Do you think 
I am not suffering — that it is nothing to me to lose 
you ? Try to think better of me. Oh, Jasper, it is hard 
indeed for me, and — I love you so. 


292 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ No, no,” she went on ; “ do not make the task 
harder for me. Why can you not curse me ? It would 
be easier then. Why can you not hate me as you 
ought? Oh, if you would but strike me and go, 
I could better bear this hour ! " 

There was such abandonment of entreaty in her 
tones that my heart bled for her ; yet I could only 
answer — 

“ Claire, I will not give you up ; not though you 
went on your knees and implored it. Death alone can 
divide us now ; and even death will never kill my love." 

“ Death ! " she answered. " Think, then, that I am 
dead ; think of me as under the mould. Ah, love, hearts 
do not break so easily. You would grieve at first, but 
in a little while I should be forgotten." 

"Claire!" 

“ Forgive me, love ; not forgotten. I wronged you 
when I said the word. Believe me, Jasper, that if there 
be any gleam of day in the blackness that surrounds me 
it is the thought that you so love me ; and yet it would 
have been far easier otherwise — far easier." 

Little by little my hope was slipping from me ; but 
still I strove with her as a man battles for his life. 
I raved, protested, called earth and heaven to witness 
her cruelty ; but all in vain. 

" It would be a sin — a horrible sin ! " she kept 
saying. " God would never forgive it. No, no ; do not 
try to persuade me — it is horrible ! " and she shuddered. 

Utterly beaten at last by her obstinacy, I said-~ 


FAKEWELL. 


293 




99 


“ I will leave you now to think it over. Let me 
call again and hear that you repent.” 

“ No, love ; we must never meet again. This must 
be our last good-bye. Stay ! 33 and she smiled for the 
first time since that meeting in the cemetery. “ Come 
to ‘ Francesca 3 to-night ; I am going to act.” 

“ What ! to-night ? 33 

“ Yes. One must live, you see, even though one 
suffers. See, I have a ticket for you — for a box. You 
will come ? Promise me.” 

“ Never, Claire.” 

“ Yes, promise me. Do me this last favour; I shall 
never ask another.” 

I took the card in silence. 

“ And now,” she said, “ you may kiss me. Kiss me 
on the lips for the last time, and may God bless you, 
my love.” 

Quite calmly and gently she lifted her lips to mine, 
and on her face was the glory of unutterable tenderness. 

“ Claire ! My love, my love I ” My arms were 
round her, her whole form yielded helplessly to mine, 
and as our lips met in that one passionate, shuddering 
caress, sank on my breast. 

“ You will not leave me ? ” I cried. 

And through her sobs came the answer— 

“ Yes, yes ; it must be, it must be.” 

Then drawing herself up, she held out her hand and 
said — 

“ To-night, remember, and so — farewell.” 


294 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


And so, in the fading light of that grey December 
afternoon I left her standing there. 

* * * * * 

Mad and distraught with the passion of that parting, 
I sat that evening in the shadow of my box and waited 
for the curtain to rise upon “ Francesca/’ The Coliseum 
was crowded to the roof, for it was known that Clarissa 
Lambert’s illness had been merely a slight indisposition, 
and to-night she would again be acting. I was too busy 
with my own hard thoughts to pay much attention at 
first, but I noticed that my box was the one nearest to 
the stage, in the tier next above it. So that once more 
I should hear my darling’s voice, and see her form close 
to me. Once or twice I vaguely scanned the audience. 
The boxes opposite were full ; but, of course, I could 
see nothing of my own side of the theatre. After a 
moment’s listless glance, I leaned back in the shadow 
and waited. 

I do not know who composed the overture. It is 
haunted by one exquisite air, repeated, fading into varia- 
tions, then rising once more only to sink into the tender 
sorrow of a minor key. I have heard it but twice in my 
life, but the music of it is with me to this day. Then, as 
I heard it, it carried me back to the hour when Tom and 
I sat expectant in this same theatre, he trembling for his 
play’s success, I for the sight of my love. Poor Tom ! 
The sad melody wailed upwards as though it were the 
voice of the wind playing about his grave, every noto 
breathing pathos or suspiring in tremulous anguish. 


I WATCH THE PLAY. 


295 


Poor Tom ! Yet your love was happier than mine ; 
better to die with Claire's kiss warm upon the lips than 
to live with but the memory of it. 

The throbbing music had ended, and the play began. 
As before, the audience were without enthusiasm at first, 
but to-night they knew they had but to wait, and they 
did so patiently; so that when at last Claire's voice died 
softly away at the close of her opening song, the hushed 
house was suddenly shaken to its roof with the storm 
and tumult of applause. 

There she stood, serene and glowing, as one that 
had never known pain. My very eyes doubted. On 
her face was no sign of suffering, no trace of a tear. 
Was she, then, utterly without heart? In my memory 
I retraced the scene of that afternoon, and all my reason 
acquitted her. Yet, as she stood there in her glorious 
epiphany, illumined with the blazing lights, and radiant 
in the joy and freshness of youth, I could have doubted 
whether, after all, Clarissa Lambert and Claire Luttrell 
were one and the same. 

There was one thing which I did not fail, however, 
to note as strange. She did not once glance in the 
direction of my box, but kept her eyes steadily averted. 
And it then suddenly dawned upon me that she must be 
playing with a purpose; but what that purpose was I 
could not guess. 

Whatever it was, she was acting magnificently and 
had for the present completely surrendered herself to her 
art. Grand as that art had been on the first night of 


296 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


“ Francesca, " the power o£ that performance was utterly 
eclipsed to-night. Once between the acts I heard two 
voices in the passage outside my box — 

u What do you think of it ? ” said the first. 
u What can I ? ” answered the other. “ And how 
can I tell you ? It is altogether above words.” 

He was right. It was not so much admiration 
as awe and worship that held the house that night. 
I have heard a man say since that he wonders how 
the play could ever have raised anything beyond a 
laugh. He should have heard the sobs that every now 
and then would break uncontrollably forth, even whilst 
Claire was speaking. He should have felt the hush that 
followed every scene before the audience could recollect 
itself and pay its thunderous tribute. 

Still she never looked towards me, though all the 
while my eyes were following my lost love. Her pur- 
pose — and somehow in my heart I grew more and more 
convinced that some purpose lay beneath this transcen- 
dent display — was waiting for its accomplishment, and 
in the ringing triumph of her voice I felt it coming 
nearer — nearer — until at last it came. 

The tragedy was nearly over. Francesca had dis- 
missed her old lover and his new bride from their 
captivity and was now left alone upon the stage. The 
last expectant hush had fallen upon the house. Then 
she stepped slowly forward in the dead silence, and 
as she spoke the opening lines, for the first time our 
eyes met. 


THE CURTAIN PALLS. 


297 


* Uere then all ends : — all love, all hate, all vows, 

Ail vain reproaches. Aye, ’tis better so. 

So shall he best forgive and I forget, 

Who else had chained him to a life-long curse, 

Who else had sought forgiveness, given in vain 
While life remained that made forgiveness dear. 

Far better to release him — loving more 
Now love denies its love and he is free, 

Than should it by enjoyment wreck his joy, 

Blighting his life for whom alone I lived. 

“ No, no. As God is just, it could not be. 

Yet, oh. my love, be happy in the days 
I may not share, with her whose present lips 
Usurp the rights of my lost sovranty. 

I would not have thee think — save now and then 
As in a dream that is not all a dream — 

On her whose love was sunshine for an hour, 

Then died or e’er its beams could blast thy life. 

Be happy and forget what might have been, 

Forget my dear embraces in her arms, 

My lips in hers, my children in her sons, 

While I 

Dear love, it is not hard to die 
Now once the path is plain. See, I accept 
And step as gladly to the sacrifice 
As any maid upon her bridal morn — 

One little stroke — one tiny touch of pain 
And I am quit of pain for evermore. 

It needs no braveiy. Wert thou here to geo, 

I would not have thee weep, but look — one stroke, 

And thus ” 

What was that shriek far back there in the house ? 
What was that at sight of which the audience rose white 
and aghast from their seats ? What was it that made 
Sebastian as he entered rush suddenly forward and fall 
with awful cry before Fraucesea's body ? What was 


298 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


that trickling down the folds of her white dress ? 
Blood? 

Yes, blood I In an instant I put my hand upon the 
cushion of the box, vaulted down to the stage and was 
kneeling beside my dying love. But as the clamorous 
bell rang down the curtain, I heard above its noise a 
light and silvery laugh, and looking up saw in the box 
next to mine the coal-black devilish eyes of the yellow 
woman. 

Then the curtain fell. 


CHAPTER IX. 


TELLS HOW TWO VOICES LED ME TO BOARD A SCHOONER; 

AND WHAT BEFELL THERE. 

She died without speech. Only, as I knelt beside her 
and strove to staunch that cruel stream of blood, her 
beautiful eyes sought mine in utter love and, as the last 
agony shook her frame, strove to rend the filmy veil of 
death and speak to me still. Then, with one long, con- 
tented sigh, my love was dead. It was scarcely a 
minute before all was over. I pressed one last kiss 
upon the yet warm lips, tenderly drew her white 
mantle across the pallid face, and staggered from the 
theatre. 

I had not raved or protested as I had done that same 
afternoon. Fate had no power to make me feel now ; 
the point of anguish was passed, and in its place 
succeeded a numb stupidity more terrible by far, though 
far more blessed. 

My love was dead. Then I was dead for any sensi- 
bility to suffering that I possessed. Hatless and cloak- 
less I stepped out into the freezing night air, and 
regardless of the curious looks of the passing throng I 
turned and walked rapidly westward up the Strand. 
There was a large and eager crowd outside the Coliseum, 


300 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


for already the news was spreading ; but something in 
my face made them give room, and I passed through 
them as a man in a trance. 

The white orb of the moon was high in heaven ; the 
frozen pavement sounded hollow under-foot; the long 
street stood out, for all its yellow gas-light, white and 
distinct against the clear air ; but I marked nothing of 
this. I went westward because my home lay westward, 
and some instinct took my hurrying feet thither. I had 
no purpose, no sensation. For aught I know, that night 
London might have been a city of the dead. 

Suddenly I halted beneath a lamp-post and began 
dimly to think. My love was dead : — that was the one 
fact that filled my thoughts at first, and so I strove to 
image it upon my brain, but could not. But as I stood 
there feebly struggling with the thought another took 
its place. Why should I live ? Of course not ; better 
end it all at once — and possessed with this idea I started 
off once more. 

By degrees, as I walked, a plan shaped itself before 
me. I would go home, get my grandfather's key, to- 
gether with the tin box containing my father's Journal, 
and then make for the river. That would be an easy 
death, and I could sink for ever, before I perished, all 
trace of the black secret which had pursued my life. I 
and the mystery would end together — so best. Then, 
without pain, almost with ghastly merriment, I thought 
that this was the same river which had murmured so 
sweetly to my love. Well, no doubt its voice would be 


MANY WATERS.' 


301 




99 


just as musical over my grave. The same river : — but 
nearer the sea now — nearer the infinite sea. 

As I reflected, the idea took yet stronger possession 
of me. Yes, it was in all respects the best. The curse 
should end now. “ Even as the Heart of the Ruby is 
Blood and its Eyes a Flaming Fire, so shall it be for 
them that would possess it : Fire shall be their portion 
and Blood their inheritance for ever.” For ever? No : the 
river should wash the blood away and quench the fire. 
Then arose another text and hammered at the door of 
my remembrance. “ Many waters cannot quench love, 
neither can the floods drown it.” “ Many waters ” — 
“many waters”: — the words whispered appealingly, 
invitingly, in my ears. “ Many waters.” My feet beat 
a tune to the words. 

I reached my lodgings, ran upstairs, took out the 
key and the tin box, and descended again into the hall. 
My landlord was slipping down the latch. He stared 
at seeing me. 

“Do not latch the door just yet: I am going out 
again/' I said simply. 

“ Going out I I thought, sir, it was you as just now 
come in.” 

“ Yes, but I must go out again : — it is important.” 

He evidently thought me mad ; and so indeed I was. 

u What, sir, in that dress ? You've got no hat — 

_ >9 

no 

I had forgotten. “ True,” I said ; “ get me a hat 
and coat.” 


302 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


He stared and then ran upstairs for them. Return^ 
ing he said, “ I have got you these, sir; but I can't 
find them as you usually wears." 

“ Those will do," I answered. “I must have left 
the others at the theatre." 

This reduced him to utter speechlessness. Mutely 
he helped me to don the cloak over my thin evening 
dress. I slipped the tin box and the key into the 
pockets. As I stepped out once more into the night, 
my landlord found his speech. 

“ When will you be back, sir ? " 

The question startled me for a moment ; for a second 
or two I hesitated. 

“ I asked because you have no latch-key, as I 
suppose you left it in your other coat. So that ” 

“ It does not matter," I answered. “ Do not sit up. 
I shall not be back before morning ; " and with that I 
left him still standing at the door, and listening to my 
footsteps as they hurried down the street. 

“ Before morning!" Before morning I should be 
in another world, if there were another world. And 
then it struck me that Claire and I might meet. She 
had taken her own life and so should I. But no, no — 
Heaven would forgive her that ; it could not condemn 
my saint to the pit where I should lie : it could not be 
so kindly cruel ; and then I laughed a loud and bitter 
laugh. 

Still in my dull stupor I found myself nearing the 
river. I have not mentioned it before, but I must 


MY BOAT. 


303 


explain now, that during the summer I had purchased 
a boat, in which my Claire and I were used to row idly 
between Streatley and Pangbourne, or whithersoever love 
guided our oars. This boat, with the approach of win- 
ter, I had caused to be brought down the river and had 
housed in a waterman's shed just above Westminster, 
until the return of spring should bring back once more 
the happy days of its employment. 

In my heart I blessed the chance that had stored it 
ready to my hand. 

Stumbling through dark and tortuous streets where 
the moon's frosty brilliance was almost completely hid- 
den, I came at last to the waterman's door and knocked. 

He was in bed and for some time my summons was 
in vain. At last I heard a sound in the room above, the 
window was let down and a sulky voice said, “ Who’s 
there ? " 

“Is that you, Bagnell ? *' I answered. “Come 
down. It is I, Mr. Trenoweth, and I want you." 

There was a low cursing, a long pause broken by a 
muttered dispute upstairs, and then the street door 
opened and Bagnell appeared with a lantern. 

“ Bagnell, I want my boat." 

“ To-night, sir ? And at this hour ? " 

“Yes, to-night. I want it particularly." 

“ But it is put away behind a dozen others, and can’t 
be got." 

“ Never mind. I will help if you want assistance, 
but I must have it/' 


304 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


Bagnell looked at me for a minute and I could see 
that lie was cursing under his breath. 

“ Is it serious, sir ? You're not w 

ie I am not drunk, if that is what you mean, but 
perfectly serious, and I must have my boat.” 

“ Won’t another do as well ? ” 

“ No, it will not.” I felt in my pockets and found 
two sovereigns and a few shillings. “ Look here/’ I 
said, “ I will give you two pounds if you get this boat 
out for me.” 

This conquered his reluctance. He stared for a 
moment as I mentioned the amount, and then hastily 
deciding that I was stark mad, but that it was none of 
his business, put on his hat and led the way down to his 
boat-yard. 

Stumbling in the uncertain light over innumerable 
timbers, spars, and old oars, we reached the shed at length 
and together managed, after much delay, to get out the 
light boat and let her down to the water. I gave him the 
two sovereigns as well as the few shillings that remained 
in my pocket, and as I descended, reflected grimly that 
after all they were better in his possession ; the man 
who should find my body would have so much the less 
spoil. We had scarcely spoken whilst we were getting 
the boat out, and what words we used were uttered in 
that whisper which night always enforces; but as I 
clambered down (for the tide was now far out) and 
Bagnell passed down the sculls, he asked — 

“ When will you be back, sir?” 


DOWN THE RIVES. 


305 


The same question! I gave it the same answer. 
“Not before morning/' I said, and with a few strokes 
was out upon the tide and pulling down the river. I 
saw him standing there above in the moonlight, still 
wondering, until he faded in the dim haze behind. My 
boat was a light Thames dingey, so that although I felt 
the tide running up against me, it nevertheless made 
fair progress. What decided me to pull against the 
tide rather than float quietly upwards I do not know to 
this day. So deadened and vague was all my thought, 
that it probably never occurred to me to correct the 
direction in which the first few strokes had taken me. 
I was conscious of nothing but a row of lights gliding 
past me on either hand, of here and there a tower or tall 
building, that stood up for an instant against the sky 
and then swam slowly out of sight, of the creaking of 
my sculls in the ungreased rowlocks, and, above all, the 
white shimmer of the moon following my boat as it 
swung downwards. 

I remember now that, in a childish way, I tried to 
escape this persistent brilliance that still clung to my 
boat's side with every stroke I took ; that somehow a 
dull triumph possessed me when for a moment I slipped 
beneath the shadow of a bridge, or crept behind a black 
and silent hull. All this I can recall now, and wonder 
at the trivial nature of the thought. Then I caught 
the scent of white rose, and fell to wondering how it 
came there. There had been the same scent in the 
drawing-room that afternoon, I remembered, when Claire 


806 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


had said good-bye for ever. How had it followed me ? 
After this I set myself aimlessly to count the lights that 
passed, lost count, and began again. And all the time 
the white glimmer hung at my side. 

I was still wrapped up in my cloak, though the cape 
was flung back to give my arms free play. Rowing so, 
I must quickly have been warm ; but I felt it no more 
than I had felt the cold as I walked home from the 
theatre. My boat was creeping along the Middlesex 
shore, by the old Temple stairs, and presently threaded its 
way through more crowded channels, and passed under 
the blackness of London Bridge. 

How far below this I went, I cannot clearly call to 
mind ; of distance, as well as of time, I had lost all 
calculation. I recollect making a circuit to avoid 
the press of boats waiting for the early dawn by 
Billingsgate Market, and have a vision of the White 
Tower against the heavens. But my next impression of 
any clearness is that of rowing under the shadow of a 
black three-masted schooner that lay close under shore, 
tilted over on her port side in the low water. As my 
dingey floated out again from beneath the overhanging 
hull, I looked up and saw the words, Water- Witch, 
painted in white upon her pitch-dark bows. 

By this time I was among the tiers of shipping. 
I looked back over my shoulder, and saw their countless 
masts looming up as far as eye could see in the dim 
light, and their lamps flickering and wavering upon the 
water. I rowed about a score of strokes, and then 


I MAKE SURE. 


807 


stopped. Why go further ? This place would serve as 
well as any other. No one was likely to hear my splash 
as I went overboard,, and even if heard it would not be 
interpreted. I was still near enough to the Middlesex 
hank to be out of the broad moonlight that lit up 
the middle of the river. I took the tin box out of 
my cloak and stowed it for a moment in the stem. 
I would sink it with the key before I flung myself in. 
So, pulling the key out of the other pocket, I took 
off the cloak, then my dress-coat and waistcoat, folded 
them carefully, and placed them on the stern seat. 
This done, I slipped the key into one pocket of my 
trousers, my watch and chain into the other. I would 
do all quietly and in order, I reflected. I was silently 
kicking off my shoes, when a thought struck me. 
In my last struggles it was possible that the desire of 
life would master me, and almost unconsciously I 
might take to swimming. In the old days at Lizard 
Town swimming had been as natural to me as walk- 
ing, and I had no doubt that as soon as in the water 
I should begin to strike out. Could I count upon 
determination enough to withhold my arms and let 
myself slowly drown ? 

Here was a difficulty; but I resolved to make 
everything sure. I took my handkerchief out of the 
coat pocket, and bent down to tie my feet firmly together. 
All this I did quite calmly and mechanically. As far as 
one can be certain of anything at this distance of time, 
I am certain of this, that no thought of hesitation came 


508 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


into my head. It was not that I overcame any doubts ; 
they never occurred to me. 

I was stooping down, and had already bound the 
handkerchief once around my ankles, when my boat 
grated softly against something. I looked up, and saw 
once more above me a dark ship’s hull, and right above 
my head the white letters. Water- Witch . 

This would never do. My boat had drifted up the 
river again with the tide, stern foremost, but a little 
aslant, and had run against the warp by the schooner’s 
bows. I must pull out again, for otherwise the people 
on board would hear me. I pushed gently off from 
the warp and took the sculls, when suddenly I heard 
voices back towards the stern. 

My first impulse was to get away with all speed, and I 
had already taken half a stroke, when something caused 
my hands to drop and my heart to give one wild leap. 

What was it? Something in the voices? Yes; 
something that brushed my stupor from me as though 
it were a cobweb ; something that made me hush my 
breath, and strain with all my ears to listen. 

The two voices were those of man and woman. 
They were slightly raised, as if in a quarrel; the woman’s 
pleading and entreating, the man’s threatening and 
stern. But that was not the reason that suddenly set 
my heart uncontrollably beating and all the blood 
rushing and surging to my temples. 

For in those two voices I recognised Mrs. Luttrell 
and Simon Colli ver ! 


TWO VOICES. 


309 


" Have you not done enough ? ” the woman's voice 
was saying. “ Has your cruelty no end, that you must 
pursue me so ? Take this money, and let me go.” 

“ I must have more,” was the answer. 

“ Indeed, I have no more just now. Go, only go, 
and I will send you some. I swear it.” 

“ I cannot go,” said the man. 

“Why?” 

“Never mind. I am watched.” Here the voice 
muttered some words which I could not catch. “ So 
that unless you wish to see your husband swing — and 
believe me, my confession and last dying speech would 
not omit to mention the kind aid I had received from 
you and Clar ” 

“ Hush ! oh, hush ! If I get you this money, will 
you leave us in peace for a time ? Knowing your nature, 
I will not ask for pity — only for a short respite. I 
must tell Claire, poor girl ; she does not know yet — ” 

Quite softly my boat had drifted once more across 
the schooner’s bows. I pulled it round until its nose 
touched the anchor chain, and made the painter fast. 
Then slipping my hand up the chain, I stood with my 
shoeless feet upon the gunwale by the bows. Still 
grasping the chain, I sprang and swung myself out to 
the jibboom that, with the cant of the vessel, was not 
far above the water : then pressed my left foot in 
between the stay and the brace, while I hung for a 
moment to listen. 

They had not heard, for I could still catch the 


310 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


murmur of their voices. The creak of the jibboom and 
the swish of my own boat beneath had frightened me at 
first. It seemed impossible that it should not disturb 
them. But after a moment my courage returned, and 
I pulled myself up on to the bowsprit, and lying almost 
at full length along it, for fear of being spied, crawled 
slowly along, and dropped noiselessly on to the deck. 

They were standing together by the mizzen-mast, he 
with his back turned full towards me, she less entirely 
averted, so that I could see a part of her face in the 
moonlight, and the silvery gleam of her grey hair. 
Yes, it was they, surely enough ; and they had not seen 
me. My revenge, long waited for, was in my grasp at 
last. 

Suddenly, as I stood there watching them, I remem- 
bered my knife — the blade which had slain my father. 
I had left it below — fool that I was ! — in the tin box. 
Could I creep back again, and return without attracting 
their attention ? Should 1 hazard the attempt for the 
sake of planting that piece of steel in Simon Colli ver’s 
black heart ? 

It was a foolish thought, but my whole soul was 
set upon murder now, and the chance of slaying him 
with the very knife left in my father's wound seemed 
too dear to be lightly given up. Most likely he was 
armed now, whilst I had no weapon but the naked 
hand. Yet I did not think of this. It never even 
occurred to me that he would defend himself. Still, 
the thought of that knife was sweet to me as I crouched 


I CLIMB ON BOARD. 


311 


there beneath the shadow of the bulwarks. Should I 
go, or not? I paused for a moment, undecided; then 
rose slowly erect. 

As I did so Mrs. Luttrell turned for an instant and 
saw me. 

As I stood there, bareheaded, with the moonlight 
shining full upon my white shirt-sleeves, I must have 
seemed a very ghost ; for a look of abject terror swept 
across her face ; her voice broke off and both her hands 
were flung up for mercy — 

(< Oh, God ! Look ! look ! ” 

As I rushed forward he turned, and then, with the 
spring of a wild cat, was upon me. Even as he leapt, 
my foot slipped upon the greasy deck ; I staggered 
backward one step — two steps — and then fell with a 
crash down the unguarded forecastle ladder. 


CHAPTER X. 


TELLS IN WHAT MANNER I LEARNT THE SECRET OP THE 
GREAT KEY. 

As my senses came gradually back I could distin- 
guish a narrow, dingy cabin, dimly lit by one flickering 
oil-lamp which swung from a rafter above. Its faint 
ray just revealed the furniture of the room, which con- 
sisted of a seaman's chest standing in the middle, and 
two gaunt stools. On one of these I was seated, 
propped against the cabin wall, or rather partition, and 
as I attempted to move I learnt that I was bound hand 
and foot. 

On the other stool opposite me and beside the chest, 
sat Simon Colliver, silently eyeing me. The lamplight 
as it flared and wavered cast grotesque and dancing 
shadows of the man upon the wall behind, made of his 
matted hair black eaves under which his eyes gleamed 
red as fire, and glinted lastly upon something bright 
lying on the chest before him. 

For a minute or so after my eyes first opened no 
word was said. Still dizzy with my fall, I stared for a 
moment at the man, then at the chest, and saw that the 
bright objects gleaming there were my grandfather's 
key and my watch-chain, at the end of which hung the 


ENTRAPPED. 


313 


Golden Clasp. But now the clasp was fitted to its 
fellow and the whole buckle lay united upon the 
board. 

Though the bonds around my arms, wrists, and 
ankles caused me intolerable pain, yet my first feeling 
was rather of abject humiliation. To be caught thus 
easily, to be lying here like any rat in a gin ! this was 
the agonising thought. Nor was this all. There on 
the chest lay the Golden Clasp united at last — the work 
completed which was begun with that unholy massacre 
on board the Belle Fortune . I had played straight into 
Colliver's hand. 

He was in no hurry, but sat and watched me there 
with those intolerably evil eyes. His left hand was 
thrust carelessly into his pocket, and as he tilted back 
upon the stool and surveyed me, his right was playing 
with the clasp upon the chest. As I painfully turned 
my head a drop of blood came trickling down into my 
eyes from a cut in my forehead ; I saw, however, that 
the door was bolted. An empty bottle and a plate 
of broken victuals lay carelessly thrust in a corner, 
and a villainous smell from the lamp filled the whole 
room and almost choked me ; but the only sound in the 
dead stillness of the place was the monotonous tick- 
tick of my watch as it lay upon the chest. 

How long I had lain there I could not guess, but I 
noticed that the floor slanted much less than when I first 
scrambled on deck, so guessed that the tide must have 
risen considerably. Then having exhausted my wonder 


314 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


I looked again at Colliver, and began to speculate how 
he would kill me and how long he would take 
about it. 

I found his wolfish eyes still regarding me, and for 
a minute or two we studied each other in silence. Then 
without removing his gaze he tilted his stool forward, 
slowly drew a short heavy knife from his waist-band, 
slipped it out of its sheath — still without taking his 
left hand from his pocket — laid it on the table and leant 
back again. 

“ I suppose," he said at last and very deliberately as 
if chewing his words, “you know that if you attempt 
to cry out or summon help, you are a dead man that 
instant." 

“ Well, well," he continued, after waiting a moment 
for my reply, " as long as you understand that, it does 
not matter. I confess I should have preferred to talk 
with you and not merely to you. However, before I 
kill you — and I suppose you guess that I am going to 
kill you as soon as I've done with you — I wish to have 
just a word, Master Jasper Trenoweth." 

From the tone in which he said the words he might 
have been congratulating me on some great good for- 
tune. He paused awhile as if to allow the full force 
of them to sink in, and then took up the Golden Clasp. 
Holding the pieces together with the fore-finger and 
thumb of his right hand, he advanced and thrust it 
right under my sight — 

“ Do you see that ? Can you read it ? " 


THE BUCKLE IS UNITED. 


315 


As I was still mute he walked back to the chest 
and laid the clasp down again. 

i( Aha ! ” he exclaimed with a short laugh horrible to 
hear, “you won’t speak. But there have been times, 
Mr. Jasper Trenoweth, when you would have given 
your soul to lay hands upon this piece of gold and read 
what is written upon it. It is a pity your hands are 
tied — a thousand pities. But I do not wish to be hard 
on you, and so I don’t mind reading out what is written 
here. The secret will be safe with you, don’t you see ? 
Quite — safe — with — you.” 

He rolled out these last words, one by one, with in- 
finite relish ; and the mockery in the depths of those 
eyes seared me far more than my bonds. After watching 
the effect of his taunt he resumed his seat upon the 
stool, pulled the clasp towards him and said — 

“ People might call me rash for entrusting these 
confidences to you. But I do not mind admitting that 
I owe you some reparation — some anterior reparation. 
So, as I don’t wish you to die cursing me, I will bo 
generous. Listen ! ” 

He held the buckle down upon the table and read 


cut the 

inscription as 

follows 




START 

. AT 

FULL . 

MOON . 

END . 

SOUTH. 

POINT 

. 27 

FEET . 

N.N.W. . 

22 . 

FEET. 

w. 

. OP 

RING . 

NORTH . 

SIDE . 

4. 

FEET 

. 6 

INCHES. 

DEEP . 

AT . 

POINT. 

OF 

. MEETING . 

LOW . 

WATER . 

n . 

HOURS. 


516 


DEAD MAN*S ROCK. 


He read it through twice very slowly, and each time 
as he ceased looked up to see how I took it. 

“ It does not seem to make much sense, does it ? ** 
he asked. “But wait a moment and let me parcel it 
out into sentences. I should not like you to miss any 
of its meaning. Listen again/* He divided the 
writing up thus : — 

(i Start at full moon. 

End South Point 27 feet N.N.W. 

22 feet W. of Ring. North Side. 

4 feet 6 inches deep at point of meeting. 

Low water 1J hours/* 

“You still seem puzzled, Mr. Trenoweth. Very 
well, I will even go on to explain further. The person 
who engraved this clasp meant to tell us that something 
— let us say treasure, for sake of argument — could be 
found by anyone who drew two lines from some place 
unknown : one 27 feet in length in direction N.N.W. 
from the South Point of that place; the other 22 feet 
due West of a certain Ring on the North side of that 
same place. So far I trust I make my meaning clear. 
That which we have agreed to call the treasure lies 
buried at a depth of 4 feet 6 inches on the spot where 
these two lines intersect. But the person (you or I, for 
the sake of argument) who seeks this treasure must 
start at full moon. Why? Obviously because the 
spring tides occur with a full moon, consequently the 
low ebb. We must expect, then, to find our treasure 


MT ENEMY EXPLAINS. 


317 


buried in a spot which is only uncovered at dead low 
water; and to this conclusion I am also helped by the 
last sentence, which says, “ Low water 1 J hours.” It is 
then, I submit, Mr. Trenoweth, in some such place that 
we must look for our treasure ; the only question being, 
c Where is that place ?*” 

I was waiting for this, and a great tide of joy swept 
over me as I reflected that after all he had not solved 
the mystery. The clasp told nothing, the key told no- 
thing. The secret was safe as yet. 

He must have read my thoughts, for he looked 
steadily at me out of those dark eyes of his, and then 
said very slowly and deliberately — 

“ Mr. Trenoweth, it grieves me to taunt your miser- 
able case ; but do you mind my saying that you are a 
fool?” 

I simply stared in answer. 

a Your father was a fool — a pitiful fool ; and you 
are a fool. Which would lead me, did I not know bet- 
ter, to believe that your grandfather, Amos Trenoweth, 
was a fool also. I should wrong him if I called him 
that. He was a villain, a black-hearted, murderous, 
cold-blooded, damnable villain ; but he was only a fool 
for once in his life, and that was when he trusted in the 
sense of his descendants.” 

His voice, as he spoke of my grandfather, grew 
suddenly shrill and discordant, while his eyes blazed up 
in furious wrath. In a second or two, however, he 
calmed himself again and went on quietly as before. 


318 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ You wonder, perhaps, why I call you a fool. It is 
because you have lived for fourteen years with your 
hand upon riches that would make a king jealous, and 
have never had the sense to grasp them ; it is because 
you have shut your eyes when you might have seen, 
have been a beggar when you might have ridden in a 
carriage. Upon my word, Mr. Jasper Trenoweth, when 
I think of your folly I have half a mind to be dog-sick 
with you myself." 

What could the man mean ? What was this clue 
which I had never found ? 

“And all the time it was written upon this key 
here, as large as life ; not only that, but, to leave you 
no excuse, Amos Trenoweth actually told you that it 
was written here." 

“What do you mean?" stammered I, forced into 
speech at last. 

“ Ah ! so you have found your voice, have you ? 
What do I mean? Do you mean to say you do not 
guess even now? Upon my word, I am loth to kill so 
fair a fool." He regarded me for a moment with 
pitying contempt, then stretched out his hand and took 
up my grandfather's key. 

“ I read here," he said, “ written very clearly and 
distinctly, certain words. You must know those 
words ; but I will repeat them to you to refresh your 
memory : — 


“dead man's rock!" 


819 


“Well?" I asked, for — fool that I was — even yet I 
did not understand. 

“ Mr. J asper Trenowetli, did you ever hear tell of 
such a place as Dead Man's Rock ? " 

The truth, the whole horrible certainty of it, struck 
me as one great wave, and rushed over my bent head 
as with the whirl and roar of many waters. “ Dead 
Man's Rock ! " “ Dead Man's Rock ! " it sang in my 
ears as it swept me off my feet for a moment and 
passed, leaving me to sink and battle in the gulf of 
bottomless despair. And then, as if I really drowned, 
my past life with all its follies, mistakes, wrecked 
hopes and baseless dreams, shot swiftly past in one 
long train. Again I saw my mothers patient, anxious 
smile, my father's drowned face with the salt drops 
trickling from his golden hair, the struggle on the 
rock, the inquest, the awful face at the window, the 
corpses of my parents stretched side by side upon the 
bed, the scene in the gambling-hell with all its white 
and desperate faces, Claire, my lost love, the river, the 
theatre, Tom's death, and that last dreadful scene, Fran- 
cesca with the dark blood soaking her white dress and 
trickling down upon the boards. I tried to put my 
hands before my eyes, but the cords held and cut my 
arms like burning steel. Then in a flash I seemed to be 
striding madly up and down Oxford Street, while still 
in front of me danced and flew the yellow woman, her 
every diamond flashing in the gas-light, her cold black 
eyes, as they turned and mocked me, blazing marsh- 


320 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


lights of doom. Then came the ringing of many bells 
in my ears, mingled with silvery laughter, as though the 
fiends were ringing jubilant peals within the pit. 

Presently the sights grew dim and died away, but 
the chiming laughter still continued. 

I looked up. It was Colliver laughing, and his face 
was that of an arcli-devil. 

“ It does me good to see you," he explained ; “ oh, 
yes, it is honey to my soul. Pool ! and a thousand times 
fool ! that ever I should have lived to triumph thus 
over you and your accursed house ! " 

Once more his voice grew shrill and his eyes flashed ; 
once more he collected himself. 

“ You shall hear it out," he said. “ Look here ! " 
and he pulled a greasy book from his pocket. “ Here is 
a nautical almanack. What day is it ? December 23rd, 
or rather some time in the morning of December 24th, 
Christmas Eve. On the evening of December 24th it 
is full moon, and dead low water at Falmouth about 
11.30 p.m. Fate (do you believe in fate, Mr. Tre- 
noweth?) could not have chosen the time better. In 
something under twenty hours one of us will have his 
hands upon the treasure. Which will it be, eh ? Which 
will it be ? " 

Well I knew which it would be, and the knowledge 
was bitter as gall. 

“ A merry Christmas, Mr. Jasper Trenoweth ! Peace 

on earth and good-will You will bear no malice by 

that time. So a merry Christmas, and a merry Christ* 


I HEAR iT UGT. 


321 


mas-box ! likewise the compliments of the season, and 
a happy New -Year to you ! -Where are you going to 
spend Christmas, Mr. Trenoweth — eh ? I am thinking 
of passing it by the sea. You will, perhaps, try the sea 
too, only you will be in it. Thames runs swiftly when 
it has a corpse for cargo. Oho I 

u At his red, red lips the merrymaid sips 
For the kiss that his sweetheart stole, my lads — 

Sing ho ! for the bell shall toll ! 

“ I'm afraid no bell will toll for you, Mr. Trenoweth ; 
not yet awhile at any rate. Not till your sweetheart is 
weary of waiting — 

u And the devil has got his due, my lads— - 
Sing ho! but he waits for you ! 

<{ Both waiting for you, Mr. Trenoweth, your sweet- 
heart and the devil — which shall have you ? f Ladies 
first/ you would say. Aha 1 I am not so sure. By the 
way, might I give a guess at your sweetheart's name ? 
Might it begin with a C? Might she be a famous 
actress ? Claire perhaps she calls herself ? Aha I 
Claire's pretty eyes will go red with watching before 
she sets them on you again. Fie on you to keep so 
sweet a maiden waiting ! And where will you be all 
the time, Mr. Jasper Trenoweth?" 

He stopped at last, mastered by his ferocity and 
almost panting. But I, for the sound of Claire's name 
had maddened me, broke out ic fury — 

“Dog and devil 1 I shall be lying with all the 


822 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


other victims of your accursed life ; dead as my father 
whom you foully murdered within sight of his home ; 
dead as those other poor creatures you slew upon the 
Belle Fortune ; dead as my mother whose pure mind 
fled at sight of your infernal face, whose very life fled 
at sight of your handiwork ; dead as John Railton whom 
you stabbed to death upon " 

“ Hush, Mr. Trenoweth! As for your ravings, I love 
to hear them, and could listen by the hour, did not time 
press. But I cannot have you talking so loudly, you 
understand ; " and he toyed gently with his knife ; “ also 
remember I must be at Dead Man's Rock by half-past 
eleven to-night." 

“ Fiend ! " I continued, “you can kill me if you like, 
but I will count your crimes with my last breath. Take 
my life as you took my friend Tom Loveday's life — 
Tom whom you knifed in the dark, mistaking him for 
me. Take it as you took Claire's, if ever man " 

“ Claire — Claire dead ! " He staggered back a step, 
and almost at the same moment I thought I caught a 
sound on the other side of the partition at my back. I 
listened for a moment, then concluding that my ears had 
played me some trick, went on again — 

“Yes, dead — she killed herself to-night at the 
theatre — stabbed herself — oh, God ! Do you think I 
care for your knife now? Why, I was going to kill 
myself, to drown myself, at the very moment when I 
heard your voice and came on board. I came to kill 
you. Make the most of it — show me no mercy, for as 


NO MERCY. 


823 


there is a God in heaven I would have shown you 
none ! '' 

What was that sound again on the other side of the 
partition ? Whatever it was, Colliver had not heard, for 
he was musing darkly and looking fixedly at me. 

“ No, I will show you no mercy,” he answered 
quietly, “ for I have sworn to show no mercy to your 
race, and you are the last of it. But listen, that for a 
few moments before you die you may shake off your 
smug complacency and learn what this wealth is, and 
what kind of brood you Trenoweths are. Dog ! The 
treasure that lies by Dead Man's Bock is treasure 
weighted with dead men's curses and stained with dead 
men’s blood — wealth won by black piracy upon the high 
seas — gold for which many a poor soul walked the plank 
and found his end in the deep waters. It is treasure 
sacked from many a gallant ship, stripped from many a 
rotting corpse by that black hound your grandfather, 
Amos Trenoweth. You guessed that ? Let me tell you 
more. 

“ There is many a soul crying in heaven and hell 
for vengeance on your race ; but your death to-night, 
Jasper Trenoweth, shall be the peculiar joy of one. You 
guessed that your grandfather had crimes upon his 
soul ; but you did not guess the blackest crime on his 
account — the murder of his dearest friend. Listen. I 
will be brief with you, but I cannot spare myself the 
joy of letting you know this much before you die. 
Know then that when your grandfather was a rich mac 


324 


DEAD MAN'S ROC EL. 


by this friend's aid — after, with this friend's help, he 
had laid hands on the secret of the Great Ruby for 
which for many a year he had thirsted, in the moment 
of his triumph he turned and slew that friend in order 
to keep the Ruby to himself. 

“ That fool, your father, kept a J ournal — which no 
doubt you have read over and over again. Did he tell 
you how I caught him upon Adam's Peak, sitting with 
this clasp in his hands before a hideous, graven stone ? 
That stone was cut in ghastly mockery of that friend's 
face ; the bones that lay beneath it were the bones of 
that friend. There, on that very spot where I met your 
father face to face, did his father, Amos Trenoweth, 
strike down my father Ralph Colliver. 

“ Ah, light is beginning to dawn on your silly brain 
at last ! Yes, pretending to protect the old priest who 
had the Ruby, he stabbed my father with the very knife 
found in your father's heart, stabbed him before his 
wife's eyes on that little lawn upon the mountain-side ; 
and, when my helpless mother called vengeance upon 
him, handed the still reeking knife to her and bade her 
do her worst. Ah, but she kept that knife. Did you 
mark what was engraved upon the blade ? That knife 
had a good memory, Mr. Jasper Trenoweth. 

“Let me go on. As if that deed were not foul 
enough, he caused the old priest to carve — being skil- 
ful with the chisel — that vile distortion of his dead 
friend's face out of a huge boulder lying by, and then 
murdered him too for the Ruby's sake, and tumbled 


COLLI Visit’s STORY. 


325 


their bodies into the trough together. Such was Amos 
Trenoweth. Are you proud o£ your descent? 

“ I never saw my father. I was not born until three 
months after this, and not until I was ten years old did 
my mother tell me of his fate. 

“ Your grandfather was a fool, Jasper Trenoweth, to 
despise her; for she was young then and she could wait* 
She was beautiful then, and Amos Trenoweth himself 
had loved her. What is she now ? Speak, for you have 
seen her/'’ 

As he spoke I seemed to see again that yellow face, 
those awful, soulless eyes, and hear her laugh as she 
gazed down from the box upon my dying love. 

" Ah, beauty goes. It went for ever on that day 
when Amos Trenoweth spat in her face and taunted her 
as she clung to the body of her husband. Beauty goes, 
but revenge can wait ; to-night it has come ; to-night a 
thousand dead men's ghosts shall be glad, and point 
at your body as it goes tossing out to sea. To-night 
— but let me tell the rest in a word or two, for 
time presses. How I was brought up, how my mad 
mother — for she is mad on every point but one — trained 
me to the sea, how I left it at length and became an 
attorney's clerk, all this I need not dwell upon. But 
all this time the thought of revenge never left me 
for an hour; and if it had, my mother would have 
recalled it. 

“ Well, we settled in Plymouth and I was bound a 
clerk to your grandfather's attorney, still with the same 


326 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


purpose. There I learnt of Amos Trenoweth’s affairs, 
but only to a certain extent ; for of the wealth which he 
had so bloodily won I could discover nothing 1 ; and yet I 
knew he possessed riches which make the heart faint even 
to think upon. Yet for all I could discover, his possessions 
were simply those of a struggling farmer, his business 
absolutely nothing. I was almost desperate, when one 
day a tall, gaunt and aged man stepped into the office, 
asked for my employer, and gave the name of Amos 
Trenoweth. Oh, how I longed to kill him as he stood 
there ! And how little did he guess that the clerk 
of whom he took no more notice than of a stone, 
would one day strike his descendants off the face of the 
earth and inherit the wealth for which he had sold his 
soul — the great Ruby of Ceylon 1 

“ My voice trembled with hate as I announced him 
and showed him into the inner room. Then I closed the 
door and listened. He was uneasy about his Will — the 
fool — and did not know that all his possessions would 
necessarily become his son’s. In my heart I laughed 
at his ignorance; but I learnt enough — enough to wait 
patiently for years and finally to track Ezekiel Trenoweth 
to his death. 

“ It was about this time that I fell in love. In this 
as in everything through life I have been cursed with 
the foulest luck ; but in this as in everything else my 
patience has won in the end. Lucy Luttrell loved 
another man called Railton — John Railton. He was 
another fool — you are all fools — but she married him 


A life's revenge. 


827 


and had a daughter. I wonder if you can guess who 
that daughter was ? w 

He broke off and looked at me with fiendish malice. 

“ You hound ! " I cried, “ she was Janet Railton — 
Claire Luttrell ; and you murdered her father as you 
say Amos Trenoweth murdered yours." 

“ Right," he answered coolly. “ Quite right. Oh, 
the arts by which I enticed that man to drink and then 
to crime ! Even now I could sit and laugh over them 
by the hour. Why, man, there was not a touch of 
guile in the fellow when I took him in hand, and yet it 
was he that afterwards took your father's life. He 
tried it once in Bombay and bungled it sadly : he did it 
neatly enough, though, on the jib-boom of the Belle 
Fortune. I lent him the knife : I would have done it 
myself, but Railton was nearer; and besides it is always 
better to be a witness." 

What was that rustling sound behind the partition ? 
Colliver did not hear it, at any rate, but went on with 
his tale, and though his eyes were dancing flames of hate 
his voice was calm now as ever. 

" I had stolen half the clasp beforehand from the 
cabin floor where that stupendous idiot, Ezekiel Tre- 
noweth, had dropped it. Railton caught him before he 
dropped, but I did not know he had time to get the 
box away, for just then a huge wave broke over us and 
before the next we both jumped for the Rock. I thought 
that Railton must have been sucked back, for I only 
clung on myself by the luckiest chance. It was pitch- 


328 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


dark and impossible to see. I called his name, but he 
either could not hear for the roar, or did not choose to 
answer, so after a bit I stopped. I thought him dead, 
and he no doubt thought me dead, until we met upon 
Dead Man’s Rock. 

“ Shall I finish ? Oh, yes, you shall hear the whole 
story. After the inquest I escaped back to Plymouth, 
told Lucy that her husband had been drowned at sea, 
and finally persuaded her to leave Plymouth and marry 
me. So I triumphed there, too : oh, yes, I have 
triumphed throughout.” 

“ You hound ! ” I cried. 

He laughed a low musical laugh and went on 
again — 

“ Ah, yes, you are angry of course ; but I let that 
pass. I have one account to settle with you Trenoweths, 
and that is enough for me. Three times have I had you 
in my power, Mr. Jasper Trenoweth — three times or 
four — and let you escape. Once beneath Dead Man’s 
Rock when I had my fingers on your young weasand 
and was stopped by those cursed fishermen. Idiots that 
they were, they thought the sight of me had frightened 
you and made you faint. Paint ! You would have been 
dead in another half-minute. How I laughed in my 
sleeve while that uncle of yours was trying to make 
me understand — me — what was my name then ? — oh, ay, 
Georgio Rhodojani. However, you escaped that time : 
and once more you hardly guessed how near you were to 
death, when I looked in at the window on the night 


COLLIYER HAS DONE WAITING. 


329 


after the inquest. Why, in my mind I was tossing up 
whether or not I should murder you and your white- 
faced mother. I should have done so, but thought you 
might hold some knowledge of the secret after your 
meeting with Railton, so that it seemed better to bide 
my time.” 

“ If it be any satisfaction to you,” I interrupted, “ to 
know that had you killed me then you would never have 
laid hands on that clasp yonder, you are welcome to it.” 

“ It is,” he answered. “ I am glad I did not kill 
you both : it left your mother time to see her dead 
husband, and has given me the pleasure of killing you 
now : the treat improves with keeping. Well, let me 
go on. After that I was forced to leave the comitry for 
some time * 

“For another piece of villainy, which your wife 
discovered.” 

“ How do you know that ? Oh, from Claire, I 
suppose : however, it does not matter. When I came 
back I found you : found you, and struck again. But 
again my cursed luck stood in my way and that damned 
friend of yours knocked me senseless. Look at this 
mark on my cheek.” 

“Look at the clasp and you will see where your 
blow was struck.” 

“ Ah, that was it, was it ? ” he said, examining the 
clasp slowly. “ I suppose you thought it lucky at the 
time. So it was — for me. For, though I made another 
mistake in the fog that night, I got quits with your 


330 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


friend at any rate. I have chafed often enough at these 
failures, but it has all come right in the end. I ought 
to have killed your father upon Adam's Peak ; but he 
was a big man, while I had no pistol and could not 
afford to risk a mistake. Everything, they say, comes 
to the man who can wait. Your father did not escape, 
neither will you, and when I think of the joy it was to 
me to know that you and Claire, of all people " 

But I would hear no more. Mad as I was with 
shame and horror for my grandfather's cruelty, I knew 
this man, notwithstanding his talk of revenge, to be a 
vile and treacherous scoundrel. So when he spoke of 
Claire I burst forth — 

“ Dog, this is enough ! I have listened to your tale. 
But when you talk of Claire — Claire whom you killed 
to-night — then, dog, I spit upon you; kill me, and I 
hope the treasure may curse you as it has cursed me ; 
kill me ; use your knife, for I will shout " 

With a dreadful snarl he was on me and smote me 
across the face. Then as I continued to call and shout, 
struck me one fearful blow behind the ear. I remember 
that the dim lamp shot out a streak of blood-red flame, 
the cabin was lit for one brief instant with a flash of 
fire, a thousand lights darted out, and then — then came 
utter blackness — a vague sensation of being caught up 
and carried, of plunging down — down * * * * 


CHAPTER XI. AND LAST. 

TELLS HOW AT LAST I FOUND MY REVENGE AND THE 
GREAT RUBY. 

“ Speak — speak to me ! Oh, look up and tell me you 
are not dead ! ” 

Down through the misty defiles and dark gates of 
the Valley of the Shadow of Death came these words 
faintly as though spoken far away. So distant did they 
seem that my eyes opened with vague expectation of 
another world ; opened and then wearily closed again. 

For at first they stared into a heaven of dull grey, 
with but a shadow between them and colourless space. 
Then they opened once more, and the shadow caught 
their attention. What was it ? Who was I, and how 
came I to be staring upward so ? I let the problem be 
and fell back into the easeful lap of unconsciousness. 

Then the voice spoke again. “ He is living yet/’ it 
said. “ Oh, if he would but speak ! ” 

This time I saw more distinctly. Two eyes were 
looking into mine — a woman's eyes. Where had I seen 
that face before ? Surely I had known it once, in some 
other world. Then somehow over my weary mind stole 
the knowledge that this was Mrs. Luttrell — or was 


332 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


it Claire? No, Claire was dead. “ Claire — dead,” I 
seemed to repeat to myself ; but bow dead or where I 
could not recall. u Claire — dead ; " then this must be 
her mother, and I, Jasper Trenoweth, was lying here 
with Claire’s mother bending over me. How came we 
so? What had happened, that — and once more the 
shadow of oblivion swept down and enfolded me. 

She was still there, kneeling beside me, chafing 
my hands and every now and then speaking words of 
tender solicitude. How white her hair was ! It used 
not to be so white as this. And where was I lying ? 
In a boat ? How my head was aching ! 

Then remembrance came back. Strange to tell, it 
began with Claire's death in the theatre, and thence 
led downwards in broken and interrupted train until 
Colliver's face suddenly started up before me, and I 
knew all. 

I raised myself on my elbow. My brain was throb- 
bing intolerably, and every pulsation seemed to shoot fire 
into my temples. Also other bands of fire were clasped 
about my arms and wrists. So acutely did they burn 
that I fell back with a low moan and looked helplessly 
at Mrs. Luttrell. 

Although it had been snowing, her bonnet was 
thrust back from her face and hung by its ribbons which 
were tied beneath her chin. The breeze was playing 
with her disordered hair — hair now white as the snow- 
flakes upon it, though grey when last I had seen it — 
but it brought no colour to her face. As she bent over 


BACK TO CONSCIOUSNESS. 


333 


me to place her shawl beneath my head, I saw that her 
blue eyes were strangely bright and prominent. 

“ Thank God, you are alive ! Does the bandage 
pain you ? Can you move ? ” 

I feebly put my hand up and felt a handkerchief 
bound round my head. 

“ I was afraid — oh, so afraid ! — that I had been too 
late. Yet God only knows how I got down into your 
boat — in time — and without his seeing me. I knew 
what he would do — I was listening behind the partition, 
all the time: but I was afraid he would kill you 
first.” 

“Then — you heard?” 

“ I heard all. Oh, if I were only a man — but can 
you stand ? Are you better now ? For we must lose 
no time/’ 

I weakly stared at her in answer. 

“ Don't you see ? If you can stand and walk, as I 
pray you can, there is no time to be lost. Morning is 
already breaking, and by this evening you must catch 
him.” 

“ Catch him ? ” 

“ Yes, yes. He has gone — gone to catch the first 
train for Cornwall, and will be at Dead Man's Rock to- 
night. Quick ! see if you cannot rise.” 

I sat up. The water had dripped from me, forming 
a great pool at our end of the boat. In it she was 
kneeling, and beside her lay a heavy knife and the cords 
with which Simon Colliver had bound me. 


834 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


u Yes/' I said, “ I will follow. When does the first 
train leave Paddington ? " 

“ At a quarter past nine/' she answered, “ and it is 
now about half-past five. You have time to catch it ; 
but must disguise yourself first. He will travel by it ; 
there is no train before. Come, let me row you ashore / 1 

With this she untied the painter, got out the sculls, 
sat down upon the thwart opposite, and began to pull 
desperately for shore. I wondered at her strength and 
skill with the oar. 

“ Ah/' she said, u I see at what yon are wondering. 
Remember that I was a sailor’s wife once, and without 
strength how should I have dragged you on board this 
boat ? '' 

“ How did you manage it ? M 

“ I cannot tell. I only know that I heard a splash 
as I waited under the bows there, and then began with 
my hands to fend the boat around the schooner for dear 
life. I had to be very silent. At first I could see 
nothing, for it was dark towards the shore; but I 
cried to Heaven to spare you for vengeance on that 
man, and then I saw something black lying across 
the warp, and knew it was you. I gave a strong push, 
then rushed to the bows and caught you by the hair. 
I got you round by the stern as gently as I could, 
and then pulled you on board somehow — I cannot re- 
member exactly how I did it/' 

(i Did he see you ? " 

“No, for he must have gone below directly. I 


ROWING ASHORE. 


335 


rowed under the shadow of the lighter to which we were 
tied just now, and as I did so, thought I heard him 
calling me by name. He must have forgotten me, and 
then suddenly remembered that as yet I had not given 
him the money. However, presently I heard him get- 
ting into his boat and rowing ashore. He came quite 
close to us — so close that I could hear him cursing, 
and crouched down in the shadow for fear of my life. 
But he passed on, and got out at the steps yonder. It 
was snowing at the time and that helped me." 

She pulled a stroke or two in silence, and then 
continued — 

“ When you were in the cabin together I was listen- 
ing. At one point I think I must have fainted ; but it 
cannot have been for long, for when I came to myself 
you were still talking about — about John Railton.” 

I remembered the sound which I had heard, and 
almost in spite of myself asked, “ You heard about — ” 

“ Claire ? Yes, I heard.” She nodded simply ; but 
her eyes sought mine, and in them was a gleam that 
made me start. 

Just then the boat touched at a mouldering flight of 
stairs, crusted with green ooze to high-water mark, and 
covered now with snow. She made fast the boat. 

“ This was the way he went,” she muttered. “ Track 
him, track him to his death ; spare him no single pang 
to make that death miserable ! ” Her low voice posi- 
tively trembled with concentrated hate. “Stay,” she 
said, “ have you money ? ” 


330 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


I suddenly remembered that I had given all the 
money on me to Bagnell for getting out my boat, and 
told her so. At the same moment, too, I thought upon 
the tin box still lying under the boat's stem. I stepped 
aft and pulled it out. 

“ Here is money," she said ; “ money that I was to 
have given him. Fifty pounds it is, in notes — take it 
all." 

“ But you ? " I hesitated. 

“ Never mind me. Take it — take it all. What do 
I want with money if only you kill him ? " 

I bent and kissed her hand. 

“ As Heaven is my witness," I said, “ it shall be his 
life or mine. The soul of one of us shall never see 
to-morrow." 

Her hand was as cold as ice, and her pale face never 
changed. 

“ Kill him ! " she said, simply. 

I turned, and climbed the steps. By this time day 
had broken, and the east was streaked with angry flushes 
of crimson. The wind swept through my dripping 
clothes and froze my aching limbs to the marrow. Up 
the river came floating a heavy pall of fog, out of which 
the masts showed like grisly skeletons. The snow-storm 
had not quite ceased, and a stray flake or two came 
brushing across my face. So dawned my Christmas 
Eve ! 

As I gained the top, I turned to look down. She 
was still standing there, watching me. Seeing me look. 


** KILL HIM ! ” 


837 


she waved her arms, and I heard her hoarse whisper, 
“ Kill him ! Kill him ! Kill him ! " 

I left her standing so, and turned away ; but in the 
many ghosts that haunt my solitary days, not the least 
vivid is the phantom of this white - haired woman 
on the black and silent river, eternally beckoning, 
“ Kill him !" 

I found myself in a yard strewn with timber, spars 
and refuse, half hidden beneath the snow. From it a 
flight of rickety stone steps led to a rotting door, and 
thence into the street. Here I stood for a moment, 
pondering on my next step. Not a soul was abroad so 
early ; but I must quickly get a change of clothes some- 
where ; at present I stood in my torn dress trousers and 
soaked shirt. I passed up the street, my shoeless feet 
making the first prints in the newly-fallen snow. The 
first ? No ; for when I looked more closely I saw other 
footprints, already half obliterated, leading up the street. 
These must be Simon Colli ver's. I followed them for 
about a hundred yards past the shuttered windows. 

Suddenly they turned into a shop door, and then 
seemed to leave it again. The shop was closed, and 
above it hung three brass balls, each covered now with 
a snowy cap. Above, the blinds were drawn down, but 
on looking again, I saw a chink of light between the 
shutters. I knocked. 

After a short pause, the door was opened. A red- 
eyed, villainous face peered out, and seeing me, grew 
blank w’th wonder. 


DEAD MAN’S HOCK. 


338 


“What do you want?” inquired at length thfl 
voice belonging to it. 

“ To buy a fresh suit of clothes. See, I have fallen 
into the river.” 

Muttering something beneath his breath, the pawn- 
broker opened liis door, and let me into the shop. 

It was a dingy nest, fitted up with the usual furni- 
ture of such a place. The one dim candle threw a 
ghostly light on chairs, clocks, compasses, trinkets, sauce- 
pans, watches, piles of china, and suits of left-off clothes 
arrayed like rows of suicides along the wall. A general 
air of decay hung over the den. Immediately opposite 
me, as I entered, a stuffed parrot, dropping slowly into 
dust, glared at me with one malevolent eye of glass, 
while a hideous Chinese idol, behind the counter, poked 
out bis tongue in a very frenzy of malignity. But my 
eye wandered past these, and was fixed in a moment 
upon something that glittered upon the counter. That 
something was my own watch. 

Following my gaze, the man gave me a quick, 
suspicious glance, hastily caught up the watch, and was 
bestowing it on one of his shelves, when I said — 

“ Where did you get that ? " 

“ Quite innocently, sir, I swear. I bought it of a 
gentleman who came in just now, and would not pawn 
it. I thought it was his, so that if you belong to the 
Force, I hope ” 

“ Gently, my friend,” said I ; “ I am not in the 
police, so you need not be in such a fright. Nevertheless, 


AT THE PAWNBEOKEIt's. 


339 


that watch is mine ; I can tell you the number, if you 
don't believe it." 

He pushed the watch across to me and said, still 
greatly frightened — 

“ I am sure you may see it, sir, with all my heart. 
I wouldn't for worlds " 

“ What did you give for it ? " 

He hesitated a moment, and then, as greed over- 
mastered fear, replied — 

“ Fifteen pounds, sir ; and the man would not take 
a penny less. Fifteen good pounds ! I swear it, as I am 
alive ! " 

Although I saw that the man lied, I drew out three 
five-pound notes, laid them on the table, and took my 
watch. This done, I said — 

“ Now I want you to sell me a suit of clothes, and 
aid me to disguise myself. Otherwise " 

“ Don't talk, sir, about * otherwise.' I'm sure 1 
shall only be too glad to rig you out to catch the thief. 
You can take your pick of the suits here; they are 
mostly seamen's, to be sure ; but you'll find others as 
well. While as for disguises, I flatter myself that for 
getting up a face " 

Here he stopped suddenly. 

“ How long has he been gone ? " 

" About half an hour, sir, before you came. But no 
doubt you know where he'd be likely to go ; and I won't 
be more than twenty minutes setting you completely to 
rights." 


340 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


In less than half an hour afterwards, I stepped out 
into the street so completely disguised that none of my 
friends — that is, if I had possessed a friend in the 
world — would have recognised me. I had chosen a 
sailor’s suit, that being the character I knew myself best 
able to sustain. My pale face had turned to a bronze 
red, while over its smoothly - shaven surface now 
grew the roughest of untrimmed beards. Snow was 
falling still, so that Colliver’s footprints were en- 
tirely obliterated. But I wanted them no longer. 
He would be at Paddington, I knew; and accordingly 
I turned my feet in that direction, and walked rapidly 
westward. 

My chase had begun. I had before me plenty of 
time in which to reach Paddington, and the exercise of 
walking did me good, relaxing my stiffened limbs until 
at length I scarcely felt the pain of the weals where the 
cords had cut me. It was snowing persistently, but 
I hardly noticed it. Through the chill and sullen 
morning I held doggedly on my way, past St. Katharine’s 
Wharf, the Tower, through Gracechurch Street, and out 
into St. Paul’s Churchyard. Traffic was already begin- 
ning here, and thickened as I passed down Ludgate Hill 
and climbed up to Holborn. Already the white snow was 
being churned and trodden into hideous slush in which 
my feet slipped and stumbled. My coat and sailor’s 
cap were covered with powdery flakes, and I had to hold 
my head down for fear lest the drifting moisture should 
wash any of the colouring off my face. So my feet 


TIIE CHASE BEGINS. 


341 


ca.-ried me once more into Oxford Street. How well 
remembered was every house, every lamp-post, every 
flag of the pavement almost ! I was on my last quest 
now. 

“ To-night ! to-night 1 ” whispered my heart : then 
came back the words of Claire's mother — “ Kill him ! 
Kill him ! ” and still I tramped westward, as westward 
lay my revenge. 

Suddenly a hansom cab shot past me. It came up 
silently on the slushy street, and it was only when it 
was close behind that I heard the muffled sound of its 
wheels. It was early yet for cabs, so that I turned my 
head at the sound. It passed in a flash, and gave me 
but a glimpse of the occupant : but in that moment 
I had time to catch sight of a pair of eyes, and knew 
now that my journey would not be in vain. They were 
the eyes of Simon Colliver. 

So then in Oxford Street, after all, I had met him, 
He was cleverly disguised — as I guessed, by the same 
hands that had painted my own face — and looked to the 
casual eye but an ordinary bagman. But art could not 
change those marvellous eyes, and I knew him in an 
instant. My heart leapt wildly for a moment — my 
hands were clenched and my teeth shut tight ; but the 
next, I was plodding after him as before. I could wait 
now. 

Before I reached Paddington I met the cab return- 
ing empty, and on gaining the station at first saw 
nothing of my man. Though as yet it was early, the 


342 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


platform was already crowded with holiday-makers ; 
a few country dames laden with countless bundles, 
careworn workers preparing to spend Christmas with 
friends or parents in their village home, a sprinkling of 
schoolboys chafing at the slowness of the clock. After 
a minute or so, I spied Simon Colliver moving among 
this happy and innocent crowd like an evil spirit. I 
flung myself down upon a bench, and under pretence of 
sleeping, quietly observed him. Once or twice, as he 
passed to and fro before me, he almost brushed my knee, 
so close was he — so close that I had to clutch the bench 
tightly for fear I should leap up and throttle him. He 
did not notice me. Doubtless he thought me already 
tossing out to sea with the gulls swooping over me, and 
the waves merrily dashing over my dead face. The 
waiting game had changed hands now. 

I heard him demand a ticket for Penryn, and, after 
waiting until he had left the booking office, took one 
myself for the same station. I watched him as he 
chose his compartment, and then entered the next. 
It was crowded, of course, with holiday-seekers; but 
the only person that I noticed at first was the man 
sitting directly opposite to me — an honest, red-faced 
countryman, evidently on his way home from town, and 
at present deeply occupied with a morning paper which 
seemed to have a peculiar fascination for him, for as he 
raised his face his round eyes were full of horror. I 
paid little attention to him, however, but, having the 
comer seat facing the engine, watched to see that Colliver 


THE WAITING GAME CHANGES HANDS. 


343 


did not change his compartment. He did not appear 
again, and in a minute or two the whistle shrieked and 
we were off. 

At first the countryman opposite made such a pro- 
digious to-do with his piece of news that I could not 
help watching him. Then my attention wandered from 
him to the country through which we were flying. 
Slowly I pondered over the many events that had passed 
since, not many months before, I had travelled up from 
Cornwall to win my fortune. My fortune ! To what 
had it all come ? I had won a golden month or two of 
love, and lo ! my darling was dead. Dead also was the 
friend who had travelled up with me, so full of boyish 
hope : both dead ; the one in the full blaze of her 
triumph, the other in the first dawn of his young 
success : both dead — and, but for me, both living yet 
and happy. 

Suddenly the countryman looked up and spoke. 

“ Hav^ee seen this bit o' news ? Astonisliin' I And 
her so pretty too ! ” 

“ What is it ? " I asked vacantly. 

For answer he pushed the paper into my hands, 
and with his thumb-nail pointed to a column headed 
“ Terrible Tragedy in a Theatre." 

“ An' to think," he continued reflectively, “as how 
I saw her wi' my own eyes but three nights back — an' 
actin' so pretty, too ! Lord ! It made me cry like any 
sucking child: beautiful it was — just beau-ti-ful ! 
Here's a story to tell my missus ! " 


344 


DEAD MAN'S ROCE. 


I took the paper and read — 

“ Terrible Tragedy in a Theatre. Suicide op a 
Famous Actress. — Last evening, the performance of the new 
and popular tragedy, Francesca, at the Coliseum, was interrupted 
by a scene perhaps the most awful that has ever been presented 
to the play-going public. A sinister fate seems to have pursued 
this play from the outset. It will be within the memory of all 
that its young and gifted author was, on the very night of its 
production, struck down suddenly in the street by an unknown 
hand which the police have not yet succeeded in tracing. Last 
night’s tragedy was even more terrible. Clarissa Lambert, 
whose name ” 

But I wanted to read no more. To the country- 
man's astonishment the paper slipped from my listless 
fingers, and once more my gaze turned to the carriage 
window. On we tore through the snow that raced hori- 
zontally by the pane, through the white and peaceful 
country — homeward. Homeward to welcome whom ? 
"Whom but the man now sitting, it might be, within a 
foot of me? To my heart I hugged the thought of 
him, sitting there and gloating over the morrow. 

The morrow ! Somehow my own horizon did not 
stretch as far: it was bounded by to-night. Before 
to-morrow one of us two should be a dead man ; perhaps 
both. So best: the world with its loves and hatreds 
would end to-night. So westward we sped in the grey 
light beneath which the snowy fields gleamed unnatu- 
rally — westward while the sun above showed only 
as a crimson ball, an orb of blood, travelling westward 
too. At Bristol it glared through a murky veil of 
smoke, at Exeter and through the frozen pastures and 


WESTWAED. 


345 


leafless woodlands of Devon dropped swiftly towards 
my goal, beckoning with blood-stained hand across the 
sky. Past the angry sea we tore, and then again into 
the whitened fields now growing dim in the twilight. 
In the carriage the talk was unceasing — talk of home, 
of expectant friends, of Christmas meetings and festivi- 
ties. Every station was thronged, and many a happy 
welcome I witnessed as I sat there with no friend but 
hate. Friends ! What had I to do with such ? I had 
a friend once, but he was dead. Friend, parents, love 

— all dead by one man’s hand, and he But a little 

while now ; but a little while ! 

We reached Plymouth shortly after five — the train 
being late — and here the crowd in the carriages grew 
greater. It was dark, but the moon was not yet up — 
the full moon by which the treasure was to be sought. 
How slowly the train dragged through Cornwall ! It 
would be eight before we reached Penryn, and low water 
was at half-past eleven. Should we be in time ? 

The snow had ceased to fall : a clear north-east wind 
had chased the clouds from heaven, and scarcely had we 
passed Saltash before a silver rim came slowly rising 
above the black woods on the river’s opposite bank. 
Clear into the frosty night it rose, and I fell to wonder- 
ing savagely with what thoughts Colliver saluted it. 

It was already half-past eight as we changed our 
train at Truro, and here again more time was wasted. 
Upon the platform I saw him again. He was heavily 
cloaked and muffled now, for it was freezing hard ; but 


316 


DEAD MA^S 110UK. 


beneath the low brim of his hat I saw the deep, black 
eyes gleaming with impatience. So at last once more 
we started. 

“ Penryn ! " 

I looked at my watch. It was nine o'clock ; more 
than an hour and a half late. By the light from the 
carriage window I saw him step out into the shadow 
of the platform. I followed. Here also was a large 
crowd bound for Helston, and the coach that waited 
outside was quickly thronged inside and out. Colliver 
was outside the station in a moment, and in another had 
jumped into a carriage waiting there with two horses, 
and was gone up the hill beneath the shadow of the 
bridge. In my folly I had forgotten that he might 
have telegraphed for horses to meet him. However, 
the coach was fast and I could post from Helston. I 
clambered up to the top, where for want of a better seat 
I propped myself up on a pile of luggage, and waited 
whilst box after box, amid vociferous cursing, was piled 
up beside me. At length, just as I was beginning to 
despair of ever starting at all, with a few final curses 
directed at the bystanders generally, the driver mounted 
the box, shook his reins, and we were off. 

The load was so heavy that at first five horses were 
used, but we left one with his postillion at the top of 
the hill and swung down at a canter into the level 
country. The snow lay fairly deep, and the horses' 
hoofs were soundless as we plunged through the 
crisp and tingling air. The wind raced past me as 


ACROSS THE MOORS. 


347 


I sat perched on my rickety seat, swaying wildly 
with every lurch of the coach. With every gust I 
seemed to drink in fresh strength and felt the very 
motion and swiftness enter into my blood. Across the 
white waste we tore, up a stiff ascent and down across 
the moorland again — still westward; and now across the 
stretches of the moor I could catch the strong scent 
of the sea upon the wind. Along the level we sped, 
silent and swift beneath the moon. Here a white house 
by the roadside glimmered out and was gone; there 
a mine-chimney shot up against the sky and faded 
back again. We were going now at a gallop, and from 
my perch I could see the yellow light of the lamps on 
the sweating necks of the leaders. 

There was a company of sailors with me on the 
coach -top — smoking, talking, and shouting. Once or 
twice one of them would address a word or two to me, 
but got scanty answers. I was looking intently along 
the road for a sign of Colliver's carriage. He must have 
ordered good horses, for I saw no sign of him as yet. 
Stay ! As we swept round a sharp corner and swung on 
to the straight road again, I thought I spied far in front 
a black object moving on the universal white. Yes, it 
must be he : and again on the wings of the wind I heard 
the call, “ To-night 1 to-night 1 Kill him 1 kill him 1 
kill ” 

Crash ! With a heavy and sickening lurch sideways, 
the coach hung for an instant, tottered, and then 
plunged over on its side, flinging me clear of the 


348 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


luggage wliich pounded and rattled after. As I 
struggled to my feet, half dazed, I saw a confused 
medley of struggling horses, frightened passengers and 
scattered boxes. Collecting my senses I rushed to help 
those inside the coach and then amid the moaning, 
cursing and general dismay, sought out my bundle, 
grasped it tightly and set off at a run down the heavy 
road. I could wait now for no man. 

Panting, spent, my sore limbs weighted with snow, 
I gained the top of the hill and plunged down the steep 
street into Helston. There, at “ the Angel ” I got a 
post-chaise and pair, and set off once more. At first, 
seeing my dress and wondering what a sailor could want 
with post-chaises at that hour, they demurred, but the 
money quickly persuaded them. They told me also that 
a gentleman had changed horses there about half an hour 
before and gone towards the Lizard, after borrowing a 
pickaxe and spade. Half an hour : should I yet be in 
time ? 

I leant back in the chaise and pondered. I knew 
by heart the shortest cuts across the downs. When I 
reached them I would stop the carriage and take to my 
feet once more. The fresh horses were travelling fast, 
and as we drew near the sea I dimly noted a hundred 
familiar landmarks, and in each a fresh memory of Tom. 
How affectionately we had taken leave of them, one by 
one, on our journey to London ! Now each seemed to 
cry, “ What have you done with your friend ? " This 
was my home-coming. 


BY THE ROCK ONCE MORE. 


349 


At the beginning of the downs I stopped the 
carriage, paid and dismissed the astonished post-boy 
and started off alone at a swinging trot across the 
snow. Southward hung the white moon, now high 
in heaven. It must he almost time. Along the old 
track I ran, still clutching my bundle, over the frozen 
ruts, stumbling, slipping, but with set teeth and strain- 
ing muscles, skirted the hill above Polkimbra with just 
a glimpse of the cottage roofs shining in the hollow 
below, and raced along the cliffs towards Lantrig. I 
guessed that Colliver would come across Polkimbra 
Beach, so had determined to approach the rock from 
the northern side, over Ready-Money Cove. 

Lantrig, my old home, was merrily lit up this 
Christmas Eve, and the sight of it gave me one swift, 
sharp pang of anguish as I stole cautiously downwards 
to the sands. At the cliff's foot I paused and looked 
across the Cove. 

Sable and gloomy as ever, Dead Man’s Rock soared 
up against the moon, the grim reality of that dark 
shadow which had lain upon all my life. From it had 
my hate started ; to it was I now at the last returning. 
There it stood, the stern warder of that treasure for 
which my grandfather had sold his soul, my father had 
given his life, and I had lost all that made both life and 
soul worth having. “ Blood shall be their inheritance, 
and Fire their portion for ever.” The curse had lain 
upon us all. 

Creeping along the shadow, I crossed the little Cove 


350 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


and peered through the archway on to Polkimbra Sands, 
now sparkling in the moonlight. 

Not a soul in sight ! As far as eye could see the 
beach was utterly deserted and peaceful. I stepped 
down to a small pool, left by the receding tide in the 
rock's shadow, removed my false hair and beard, and 
carefully washed away all traces of paint from my face. 
This done, I slipped off my shoes and holding them with 
the bundle in my right hand, began softly and carefully 
to ascend the rock. I gained the first ledge ; crept 
out along it as far as the ring mentioned on the clasp, 
and then began to climb again. This needed care, for 
the ascent on the north side was harder at first than 
on the other, and I could use but one hand with ease. 
Slowly, however, and with effort I pulled myself up 
and then stole out towards the face until I could com- 
mand a view of Polkimbra Beach. Still I could see 
nobody, only the lights of the little church - town 
twinkling across the beach and, far beyond, the shadowy 
cliffs of Ky nance. I pulled out my watch. It was 
close on half-past eleven, the hour of dead low water. 

As I looked up again I thought I saw a speck 
approaching over the sands. Yes, I was not mistaken. 
I set my teeth and crouched down nearer to the rock. 
Over the sands, beneath the shadow of the cliffs he came, 
and as he drew nearer, I saw that he carried something 
on his shoulder, doubtless the spade and pickaxe. A 
moment more and he turned to see that no one was 
following. As he did so, the moon shone full in his 


MY ENEMY COMES. 


351 


face, and I saw, stripped now of all disguises, the 
features of my enemy. 

I opened the tin box and took out my knife. I had 
caused the thin sharp blade, found in my dead father's 
heart, to be fitted to a horn handle into which it shut 
with an ordinary spring-clasp. As I opened it, the 
moonlight glittered down the steel and lit up the letters 
“ Ricordati." 

Still in the shadow, he crept down by the rock, and 
once more looked about him. No single soul was abroad 
at that hour to see; none but the witness crouching 
there above. I gripped the knife tighter as he dis- 
appeared beneath the ledge on which I hung. 

A low curse or two, and then silence. I held my 
breath and waited. Presently he reappeared, with 
compass in one hand and measuring-tape in the other, 
and stood there for a moment looking about him. Still 
I waited. 

About forty feet from the breakers now crisply 
splashing on the sand, Dead Man's Rock suddenly ended 
on the southern side in a thin black ridge that broke off 
with a drop of some ten feet. This ridge was, of course, 
covered at high water, and upon it the Belle Fortune 
had doubtless struck before she reeled back and settled 
in deep water. This was the “ south point " mentioned 
on the clasp. Fixing his compass carefully, he drew 
out the tape, and slowly began to measure towards the 
north-west. “End South Point, 27 feet," I remem- 
bered that the clasp said. He measured it out to the 


352 


DEAD MAN'S EOCK. 


end, and then, digging with his heel a small hole in the 
sand, began to walk back towards the rock, this time to 
the north side. And still I waited. 

Again I could hear him searching for the mark — an 
old iron ring, once used for mooring boats — and cursing 
because he could not find it. After a minute or two, 
however, he came into sight again, drawing his line now 
straight out from the cliff, due west. He was very 
slow, and every now and then, as he bent over his task, 
would look swiftly about him with a hunted air, and 
then set to work again. Still there was no sight but the 
round moon overhead, the sparkling stretch of sand, and 
the gleam of the waves as they broke in curving lines 
of silver : no sound but the sigh of the night breeze. 

Apparently his measurements were successful, for 
the tape led him once more to the hole he had marked 
in the sand. He paused for a moment or two, drew out 
the clasp, which shot out a sudden gleam as he turned 
it in his hand, and consulted it carefully. Presumably 
satisfied, he walked back to the rock to fetch his tools. 
And still I crouched, waiting, with knife in hand. 

Arrived once more at the point where the two lines 
met, he threw a hasty glance around, and began to dig 
rapidly. He faced the sea now, and had his back turned 
to me, so that I could straighten myself up, and watch 
at greater ease. He dug rapidly, and the pit, as his 
spade threw out heap after heap of soft sand, grew 
quickly bigger. If treasure really lay there, it would 
soon be disclosed. 


FOUND ! 


S53 


Presently I heard his spade strike against something 
hard. Surely he had not yet dug deeply enough. The 
clasp had said “ four feet six inches/' and the pit could 
not yet be more than three feet in depth. Colliver bent 
down and drew something out, then examined it intently. 
As I strained forward to look, he half turned, and I saw 
between his hands — a human skull. Whose ? Doubt- 
less, some victim's of those many that went down in the 
Belle Fortune ; or perhaps the skull of John Rail ton, 
sunk here above the treasure to gain which he had taken 
the lives of other men and lost in the end his own. It 
was a grisly thought, but apparently troubled Colliver 
little, for with a jerk of his arm he sent it bowling 
down the sands towards the breakers. A bound or two, 
a splash, and it was swallowed up once more by the 
insatiate sea. 

With this he fell to digging anew, and I to watching. 
For a full twenty minutes he laboured, flinging out the 
sand to right and left, and every now and then stopping 
for a moment to measure his progress. By this time, 
I judged, he must have dug below the depth pointed out 
upon the clasp, for once or twice he drew it out and 
j aused in his work to consult it. 

He was just resuming, after one of these rests, when 
his spade grated against something. He bent low to 
examine it, and then began to shovel out the sand with 
inconceivable rapidity. 

The treasure was found ! 

Like a madman he worked ; so that even from where 


354 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


I stood I could hear his breath coming hard and fast. 
At length, with one last glance around, he knelt down 
and disappeared from my view. 

My time was come. 

Knife in hand, I softly clambered down the south 
side of the rock, and dropped upon the sand. 

The pit lay rather to the north, so that by creeping 
behind the ridge on the south side I could get close up 
to him unobserved, even should he look. But he was 
absorbed now in his prize, so that I stole noiselessly out 
across the strip of sand between us until within about 
ten feet of him; then, on hands and knees, I crawled and 
pulled myself to the trench's lip and peered over. 

There, below me, within grasp, he sat, his hack still 
turned towards me. The moon was full in front, so 
that it cast no shadow of me across him. There he sat, 
and in front of him lay, imbedded in the sand, a huge 
iron chest, hound round with a broad band of iron, and 
secured with an enormous padlock. On the rusty top 
I could even trace the rudely-cut initials A. T. 

I held my breath as he drew from his pocket my 
grandfather's key and inserted it in the lock, after first 
carefully clearing away the sand. The stubborn lock 
creaked heavily as at last and with difficulty he managed 
to turn the key. And still I knelt above him, knife in 
hand. 

Then, with a long, shuddering sigh, he lifted and 
threw back the groaning lid. We both gazed, and as 
we gazed were well-nigh blinded. 


THE GREAT RUBY. 


855 


For tliis is what we saw : — 

At first, only a blaze of darting rays that beneath 
the moon gleamed, sparkled and shot out a myriad 
scintillations of colour — red, violet, orange, green and 
deepest crimson. Then by degrees I saw that all these 
flashing hues came from one jumbled heap of gems — 
some large, some small, but together in value beyond 
a king's ransom. 

I caught my breath and looked again. Diamonds, 
rubies, sapphires, amethysts, opals, emeralds, turquoises, 
and innumerable other stones lay thus roughly heaped 
together and glittering as though for joy to see the light 
of heaven once more. Some polished, some uncut, some 
strung on necklaces and chains, others gleaming in 
rings and bracelets and barbaric ornaments ; there they 
lay — wealth beyond the hope of man, the dreams of 
princes. 

The chest measured some five feet by three, and these 
jewels evidently lay in a kind of sunken drawer, or tray, 
of iron. In the corner of this was a small space of about 
four inches square, covered with an iron lid. As we 
gazed with straining eyes, Colliver drew one more long 
sigh of satisfied avarice, and lifted this smaller lid. 

Instantly a full rich flood of crimson light welled 
up, serene and glorious, with luminous shafts of splen- 
dour, that, as we looked, met and concentred in one 
glowing heart of flame — met in one translucent, in- 
effable depth of purple- red. Calm and radiant it lay 
there, as though no curse lay in its deep hollows, no 


356 


DEAD MAN*8 ROCK. 


passion had ever fed its flames with blood ; stronger than 
the centuries, imperishably and triumphantly cruel — 
the Great Ruby of Ceylon ! 

With a short gasp of delight. Colli ver was stretch- 
ing out his hand towards it, when I laid mine heavily 
on his shoulder, then sprang to my feet. My waiting 
was over. 

He gave one start of uttermost terror, leapt to his 
feet, and in an instant was facing me. Already his 
knife was half out of his waist-band ; already he had 
taken half a leap forwards, when he saw me standing 
there above him. 

Bareheaded I stood in the moonlight, the white ray 
glittering up my knife and lighting up my bared chest 
and set stern face. Bareheaded, with the light breeze 
fanning my curls, I stood there and waited for his leap. 
But that leap never came. 

One step forward he took and then looked, and look- 
ing, staggered back with hands thrown up before his 
face. Slowly, as he cowered back with hands upraised 
and straining eyeballs, I saw those eyeballs grow rigid, 
freeze and turn to stone, while through his gaping, 
bloodless lips came a hoarse and gasping sound that had 
neither words nor meaning. 

Then as I still watched, with murderous purpose on 
my face, there came one awful cry, a scream that 
startled the gulls from slumber and awoke echo after 
echo along the shore — a scream like no sound in earth or 
heaven — a scream inhuman and appalhng. 


FACE TO FACE. 


357 


Then followed silence, and as the last echo died 
away, he fell. 

As he collapsed within the pit, I made a step for- 
ward to the brink and looked. He was now upon his 
hands and knees before the chest, bathing his hands in 
the gleaming heap of gems, catching them up in hand- 
fuls, and as they ran like sparkling rain through his 
fingers, muttering incoherently to himself and humming 
wild snatches of song. 

“ Colliver — Simon Colliver ! I called. 

He paid no attention, but went on tossing up the 
diamonds and rubies in his hands and watching them as 
they rattled down again upon the heap. 

“ Simon Colliver ! J> 

I leapt down into the pit beside him, and laid my 
hand upon his shoulder. He paused for a moment, and 
looked up with a vacant gleam in his deep eyes. 

“ Colliver, I have to speak a word with you.” 

“ Oh, yes, I know you. Trenoweth, of course : 
Ezekiel Trenoweth come back again after the treasure. 
But you are too late, too late, too late 1 You are dead 
now — ha, ha 1 dead and rotting. 

“ For his glittering eyes are the salt sea’s prize. 

And his fingers clutch the sand, my lads. 

" Aha ! his fingers clutch the sand. Here’s pretty 
sand for you ! sand of all colours ; look, look, there’s a 
brave sparkle ! ” And again he ran the priceless shower 
through his fingers. 


358 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


“ Oh, yes,” he continued after a moment, looking up, 
“ oh, yes, I know you — Ezekiel Trenoweth, of course ; 
or is it Amos, or Jasper ? No matter, you are all dead. 
I killed the last of you last year — no, last night ; all 
dead, 

“And the devil has got his due, my lads I 

“ His due, his due ! Look at it ! look again ! I had 
a skull just now. John Railton's skull, no eyes in it 
though, 

“ For his glittering eyes are the salt sea’s 

“ Where is the skull ? Let me fit it with a bonny 
pair of eyes here — here they are, or here, look, here's a 
pair that change colour when they move. Where is 
the skull ? Give it me. Oh, I forgot, I lost it. Never 
mind, find it, find it. Here's plenty of eyes when you 
find it. Or give it this big, red one. Here's a flaming, 
fiery eye ! ” 

As he stretched out his hand over the Great Ruby, I 
caught him by the wrist. But he was too quick for 
me, and with a sharp snarl and click of his teeth, had 
whipped his hand round to his back. 

Then in a flash, as I grappled with him, he thrust 
me back with his left palm, and, with a sweep of his 
right, hurled the great jewel far out into the sea. I saw 
it rise and curve in one long, sparkling arch of flame, then 
fall with a dropping line of fire down into the billows. 
A splash — a jet of light, and it was gone : — gone per- 
haps to hide amid the rotting timbers of what was once 


THE END OF THE GREAT RUBY. 


359 


tlie Belle Fortune , or among the bones of her drowned 
crew to watch with its blood-red tireless eye the ex- 
tremity of its handiwork. There, for aught I know, 
it lies to-day, and there, for aught I care, beneath 
the waters it shall treasure its infernal loveliness for 
ever. 

Into its red heart I have looked once, and this was 
what I read : — of treachery, lust and rapine ; of battle 
and murder and sudden death ; of midnight outcries, and 
poison in the guest-cup ; of a curse that said, “ Even as 
the Heart of the Ruby is Blood and its Eyes a Flaming 
Fire, so shall it he for them that would possess it : Fire 
shall be their portion, and Blood their inheritance for 
ever.” Of that quest and that curse we were the two 
survivors. And what were we, that night, as we stood 
upon the sands with that last hellish glitter still dancing 
in our eyes ? The one, a lonely and broken man ; the 
other 

I turned to look at Colliver. He was huddled 
against the pit's side, with his dark eyes gazing wist- 
fully up at me. In their shining depths there lurked 
no more sanity than in the heart of the Great Ruby. As 
I looked, I knew him to be a hopeless madman, and 
knew also that my revenge had slipped from me for 
ever. 

We were still standing so when a soft wave came 
stealing up the beach and flung the lip of its foam over 
the pit’s edge into the chest. I turned round. The tide 
was rising fast, and in a minute or so would be upon usl 


360 


DEAD MAN'S ROCK. 


Catching Colliver by the shoulder, I pointed and tried to 
make him understand ; but the maniac had again fallen 
to playing with the jewels. I shook him ; he did not 
stir, only sat there jabbering and singing. And now 
wave after wave came splashing over us, soaking us 
through, and hissing in phosphorescent pools among the 
gems. 

There was no time to be lost. I tore the madman 
back, stamped down the lid, locked it, and took out the 
key ; then caught Colliver in my arms and heaved him 
bodily out of the trench. Jumping out beside him, I 
caught up the spade and shovelled back the wet sand as 
fast as I could, until the tide drove us back. Colliver 
stood quite tamely beside me all this while and watched 
the treasure disappearing from his view ; only every 
now and then he would chatter a few wild words, 
and with that break off again in vacant wonder at 
my work. 

When all was done that could be, I took my com- 
panion’s hand, led him up the sands beyond high-water 
mark, and then sat down beside him, waiting for the 
dawn. 

And there, next morning, by Dead Man's Rock they 
found us, while across the beach came the faint music 
of Polkimbra bells as they rang their Christmas peal, 
u Peace on earth and goodwill toward men." 

***** 

There is little more to tell. Next day, at low ebb, 
with the aid of Joe Roscorla (still hale and hearty) 


THE END OF MY REVENGE. 


361 


and a few Polkimbra fishermen whom I knew, the rest 
of my grandfathers treasure was secured and carried 
up from the sea. In the iron chest, besides the gems 
already spoken of, and beneath the iron tray containing 
them, was a prodigious quantity of gold and silver, 
partly in ingots, partly in coinage. This last was of 
all nationalities : moidores, dollars, rupees, doubloons, 
guineas, crown-pieces, louis, besides an amount of 
coins which I could not trace, the whole proving a 
most catholic taste in buccaneering. So much did it 
all weigh, that we found it impossible to stir the 
chest as it stood, and therefore secured the prize piece- 
meal. Strangest of all, however, was a folded parch- 
ment which we discovered beneath the tray of gems and 
above the coins. It contained but few words which ran 
as follows — 

a#® ana c&e ennaeik: 

a. &. 

This, as far as I know, was my grandfather’s one 
and only attempt at verse ; and its apparent application 
to the wreck of the Belle Fortune is a coincidence which 
puzzles me to this day. 

The reader will search the chronicles of wrecks in 
vain for the story of that ill-fated ship. But if he 
comes upon the record of a certain vessel, the James and 
Elizabeth, wrecked upon the Cornish coast on the night 


362 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


of October 11th, 1849, he may know it to be the same. 
For that was the name given by the only survivor, one 
Georgio Rhodojani, a Greek sailor, and as the James and 
Elizabeth she stands entered to this day. 

If, however, his curiosity lead him further to inquire 
into the after-history of this same Georgio Rhodojani, 
let him go on a fine summer day to the County Lunatic 
Asylum at Bodmin, and, with permission, enter the 
grounds set apart for private patients. There he may 
chance to see a strange sight. 

On a garden seat against the sunny wall sit two 
persons — a man and a woman. The man is decrepit and 
worn, being apparently about sixty-seven or eight years 
old ; but the woman, as the keepers will tell, is ninety. 
She is his mother, and as they sit together, she feeds 
him with sweets and fruit as tenderly as though he were 
a child. He takes them, but never notices her, and 
when he has had enough, rises abruptly and walks away 
humming a song which runs — 

“ So it’s hey! for the homeward bound, my lads ! 

And ho ! for the drunken crew, 

For his mess-mates round lie dead and drowned. 

And the devil has got his due, my lads— 

Sing ho ! but he waits for you ! ” 

This is his only song now, and he will walk round 
the gravel paths by the hour, singing it softly and 
muttering. Sometimes, however, he will sit for long 
beside his mother and let her pat his hand. They 
never speak. 


CONCLUSION. 


363 


Folks say that she is as mad as her son, hut she 
lodges in the town outside the walls and comes to see 
him every day. Certainly she is as remarkable to look 
upon, for her skin is of a brilliant and startling yellow, 
and her withered hands are loaded with diamonds. As 
you pass, she will stare at you with eyes absolutely 
passionless and vague; but see them as she sighs and 
turns to go, see them as she watches for a responsive 
touch of love on her son’s face, and you may find some 
meaning in them then. 

Mrs. Luttrell was never seen again from the hour 
when she stood below the river steps and waved her 
white arms to me, crying “ Kill him ! kill him ! ” I 
made every inquiry but could learn nothing, save that 
my boat had been found floating below Gravesend, 
quite empty. She can scarcely be alive, so that is 
yet one soul more added to the account of the Great 
Ruby. 

Failing to find her mother, I had Claire’s body con- 
veyed to Polkimbra. She lies buried beside my father 
and mother in the little churchyard there. Above 
her head stands a white stone with the simple words, 
“ In memory of C. L., died Dec. 23rd, 1863. ‘Love is 
strong as death/ ” 

The folk at Polkimbra have many a fable about this 
grave, but if pressed will shake their heads sagely and 
refer you to i( Master Trenoweth up yonder at Lantrig. 
Folks say she was a play-actor and he loved her. Any- 
way you may see him up in the churchyard most days. 


364 


DEAD MAN’S ROCK. 


but dont’ee go nigh him then, unless you baint afeard of 
th’ evil eye.” 

And I ? After the treasure was divided with 
Government, I still had for my share what I suppose 
would be called a considerable fortune. The only use 
to which I put it, however, was to buy back Lant- 
rig, the home of a stock that will die out with me. 
There again from the middle beam in the front parlour 
hangs my grandfather's key, covered with cobwebs as 
thickly as on the day when my father went forth to 
seek the treasure. There I live a solitary life — an old 
man, though scarcely yet past middle age. For all my 
hopes are buried in the grave where sleeps my lost 
love, and my soul shall lie for ever under the curse, 
engulfed and hidden as deeply as the Great Ruby 
beneath the shadow of Dead Man's Rock. 

















































































































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